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ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE: 


Cale 0f Ifrrfce mttr 


BY 

KINAHAN CORNWALLIS. 

M 

n\* 



NEW YORK: 

Carleton, Publisher , Madison Square. 

LONDON I S. LOW, SON & CO. 

MDCCCLXX. 


Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by 
RINAHAN CORNWALLIS, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


CHAPTER L 

I FALL INTO THE HANDS OF A SHREW. 

As memory is not born with our birth, but ripens with our 
growth, the recollections of my childhood previous to my 
seventh year are dim as a dream to me now. Everything that 
occurred to me, if remembered at all, I can only see as through 
a glass darkly; and a perpetual haze envelops the incidents 
which I sometimes vainly^ strive to place in bolder relief 
against the background of Time. It will be enough if, resting 
my reliance upon memory in preference to tradition, I give the 
chronicle of my life in the order in which events occurred to 
me, commencing as far back as I can remember, and no 
farther. 

I am thus led to a small village, on the New-England sea- 
board, not far from Boston, where I cultivated the habit of 
making mud-pies, and indulged a n'atural propensity for other 
congenial tasks, and, I hope, harmless amusements common to 
children of my age. There I had my home in the cottage of 
one to whom I first lisped the sublime name of Mother, who 
had nursed me in infancy, and followed my tottering steps 
when, escaping from the restraints of a cradle, I first essayed 
to walk ; who cherished me as her own, although I was not her 
own. It was a delusion almost natural to childhood that I 
should have conceived her to be my mother, although as a child 
I knew not what mother meant ; and I was disappointed when, 
with the advance of years, I came to the knowledge that she 
was only my foster-mother, and that my own origin was in- 
volved in obscurity. 

It was a sad day for me when I was taken in terror and tears 
from her side, by a man I had never seen before the previous 


4 


ADBIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


afternoon, wlien he called to inquire about me, and demanded 
that I should be delivered over to him. I can well remember 
how I resisted his efforts to lead me away, till I found resist- 
ance useless, and reluctantly accompanied him from the cot- 
tage with a parting kiss from my affectionate foster-mother, 
whose grief was nearly as great as my own. With him I tra- 
velled by coach to Boston, where I was taken up a narrow 
flight of stairs into a small dark office, and there introduced to 
another, equally a stranger to me; a lawyer, as I subsequently 
discovered, Barker by name. He was a stern, unkindly-look- 
ing man, and I felt afraid of him ; and when the door was shut, 
I struggled frantically to open it, and sobbed bitterly, not- 
withstanding the repeated calls of those present for silence. 
After the lapse of a few minutes, I was put into a carriage, and, 
accompanied by both, driven to the private door of a cheerless 
stone building, situated within a mile of Boston Common, 
where one Mrs. Bangs filled the position of housekeeper, and 
her son Robert that of librarian. 

“Here you are to live,” said one of the two men to me, 
“ and Mrs. Bangs will take good care of you.” 

“ I shall never be able to do anything with him if he cries in 
that way,” said she, and I was exhorted to hold my peace by re- 
peated hushes, and threats of punishment. I cried piteously to 
be taken back to the cottage from which I had come, but cried 
in vain. 

Mrs. Bangs was a widow of about fifty-five years, with a 
small, thin, wiry frame, a pale complexion, restless, gray eyes, 
and short corkscrew ringlets, of nearly the same color. Her 
nose was sharp and pointed, like the beak of a bird, and she 
had a thin, firm lip, out of which I regretted to learn a favorite 
parrot had once been treacherous enough to bite a piece, that 
indicated to some extent a temper which had driven from her 
all of her five sons, but this the youngest, and made her pru- 
dently avoided by all who knew her. 

I did not take to her kindly at first sight ; and wffien the two 
men who had conducted me to her were about to leave, I 
jumped from the chair where I had been sitting, and clung to 
them in dread of being left in such a gloomy place, with such 
a cold, unsympathizing woman. Intuition told me that I 


ADKIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


5 


could never like her, nor she me. Age had blunted her feel- 
ings, and like most old people she had no love of children. I 
followed the men to the door, but I was thrust back ; the door 
closed, and I was left alone with the old widow and her son. 
He was a tall, pale, thin, sanctimonious-looking young man, of 
about twenty-six, dressed in faded black, with a neck-cloth of 
the same color wound twice round his throat, and he had the 
manner and appearance of a student. I felt his presence sooth- 
ing, but was still unwilliug to remain where I was, and burst 
into tears at intervals, and cried for them to open the door. 
I was as disconsolate as a dog after losing his master, as 
frightened as a field-lark when first caged. 

“Now, come, come ; I’ll put you to bed right away, if you 
make any more of that' noise," said Mrs. Bangs sternly. 

For the moment I was awed into silence, but the next my 
grief grew louder than before. I was therefore taken upstairs 
to a room, over the kitchen, and commanded to undress, and 
get into bed, which I did, when Mrs. Bangs left me to my own 
reflections, with the parting admonition not to stir out of that 
till morning. It was only sun-set, but, thank Heaven, I sobbed 
myself to sleep. Morning came, and I was aroused early by 
the voice of Mrs. Bangs, saying, “Come, get up,” simul- 
taneously with which she pulled the bedclothes off me, and 
then marched out of the room to complete a toilet evidently 
unfinished. 

In a few minutes she returned, saying peremptorily, “Are 
you ready ? Come down stairs ; I want to show you how to 
make the fire.” 

I was only half-dressed, but I followed her mechanically to 
the kitchen, where, after opening the shutter of the solitary 
window, which looked into a narrow, blind yard, with high, 
dead walls on either side, she commenced the work of making 
a fire, and instructing me as to the arrangement of paper, chips, 
and coals, and the application of the match. 

“ Now,” she said, after the fire began to crackle in the grate, 
“go and clean Mr. Bangs’ boots. Take them out into the 
yard; and here’s the blacking and brushes.” 

I obeyed, but sullenly. 

“No sulking now,” she spoke, “you're to do every thing I 


6 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


bid you, without a word. A pretty how-do-you-do indeed if 
you’re to come here and live like a fine gentleman, for two dol- 
lars and-a-half a week. We told Mr. Barker, the lawyer as 
brought you here^ that we wouldn’t take you if it wasn't that 
we thought you’d be useful, now that I’m growing old, and we 
can’t afford to keep a servant, and it’s as much as I can do to 
make both ends meet. We only took you out of charity, be 
cause you were a poor orphan boy, and I’m sorry that we were 
fools enough to do it now.” 

At breakfast I was served with a dish of mush and milk, the 
former being unpalatable by reason both of its having settled 
into lumps for want of stirring, and being burnt in the sauce- 
pan. 

“Look at him, look at him,” said Mrs. Bangs, calling her 
son's attention to the expression of my countenance as I en- 
deavored to swallow the meal. “Don’t be making those faces,” 
she commanded sternly. “If you don’t like it, lump it, as 
dogs do dumplings. That’s what Mr. Barker ordered you to 
get twice a day — morning and night — and nothing else. 
Come, come,” she at length remarked, rising from her seat at 
the adjoining breakfast-table — I was placed to eat mine stand- 
ing at a sideboard, where she was in the habit of washing 
dishes, ironing clothes, and chopping suet — “well have no 
more of that,” and suiting the action to the word, she removed 
the mush and milk from before me, and conveyed it to the 
pantry, leaving me to hunger till dinner-time. 

Mr. Bangs was a bachelor ; and, besides myself, he and his 
mother were the only occupants of the place. The building 
was used chiefly as a medical library ; but it also embraced a 
museum of pathology and mineralogy, a laboratory in which 
preparations were made, and several rooms which were occa- 
sionally let for public purposes, but chiefly devoted to medical 
meetings. It was supported by a society of members, and 
managed by officers elected from among their number, just 
like any club ; and the salary allotted to Mr. Bangs was the 
moderate sum of four hundred dollars a year, and to his mo- 
ther, as house-keeper, one hundred dollars only. 

I was compelled to rise at six o’clock every morning , and if 
I ever failed in being up at that hour, Mrs. Bangs was always 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


7 


ready with the lash. “ Washington, are yon up?” she would 
call from the small room opposite that in which I slept, on a 
straw mattress, laid in one corner of the floor ; and if there 
was no response, she would march in, and arouse me by dashing 
a cup of water into my face, and dragging away the bed-clothes. 
“ Why don’t you get up, you wretch?” she would scream in 
her scanty raiment, and then retire, with her warning voice 
sounding : “If you’ve not lighted that fire before I’m dressed, 
my lad, I'll give you such a thrashing as you have never had 
in your life before.” 

On first going down-stairs, I had to open the shutters, un- 
lock the kitchen and private door; and then taking the key 
of the building from its accustomed peg, pursue my way down 
the blind yard to a door at the end of the same, which, having 
unlocked, I continued along a dark, winding passage leading 
into the hall, where I unlocked and unbolted the front-door, 
and opened the shutters. Hurrying back, I made the kitchen - 
fire, brushed the floor, swept the hearth, polished the grate, 
and then industriously commenced to brush the boots, by 
which time there was generally a ring of the bell, and I rushed 
to admit the woman who came every morning to clean the 
building. Before I came, these duties were alternately or 
jointly performed by mother and son. 

“ Who are you ?” asked the house-cleaner, a kind New-Eng- 
land woman with a large family and small means, the first time 
I opened the door for her. 

I was confused by her question, and replied : “I’ve come to 
live here. Are you Mrs. Hollis ?” 

“ Yes.” And assured by her answer that I had not admitted 
an improper character, I was about to return to the kitchen. 

“ Stop !” said she. “ Is your name Bangs ?” 

“No,” I answered timidly, “ my name’s Washington.” 

“ Washington!” she exclaimed, raising her hands ; “ what a 
big name for such a little boy.” 

I was immediately indignant at being called little, and 
showed it by a defiant look and a frown, telling her at the same 
time that I was not little. 

“Well, what’s your other name, my dear?” she continued 
inquisitively. 


8 


ADEIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


“I don’t know.” 

“ Why, where did yon come from not to know your name ?* 

“I came from Kate Wilkins’s.” 

The woman’s eyes beamed with surprise. “Why, are you 
the little boy that was found in the carpet-bag ?” 

I felt humbled, and colored. I had heard about that carpet- 
bag before, and I felt that it was not a proper place for me to 
have been found in, although I was in blissful ignorance 
of the inferences to which it gave rise, for I knew no- 
thing about the law of multiplication, or the institution of 
marriage, merely entertaining a vague idea that the incident of 
the carpet-bag had been preceded by my original discovery in 
a parsley-bed, or bower of roses, from which I was transmitted, 
after the manner of all babies, in a band-box, to that mysterious 
personage, my mother. But who was she ? Alas! I was un- 
conscious of having ever known her love. 

“Are you the little boy from Green?” 

“ Yes,” I answered, surprised at her knowing anything what- 
ever about me. 

“ I’ve a sister that knows you,’ she said. 

“ Oh ! have you ?” I inquired with fresh interest. “ What’s 
her name ?” 

“ Mrs. Mills. Don’t you know her— the school-teacher V 

“ Yes, I think I do,” I replied. 

Further conversation was interrupted by the appearance of 
Mrs. Bangs, who suddenly darted out of the passage leading 
from the house to the hall, where she had been listening to the 
dialogue. 

“ Go into the kitchen this minute, Sir,” she shouted, rushing 
upon me and following up her command with a kick, and she 
drove me before her like a dog. “ How dare you stop here 
talking, when I told you to come straight back and finish 
cleaning those candle-sticks ?” 

“ It was my fault,” said the woman, coming to the rescue. 

“Well, I’ve got to teach him obedience, and I won’t allow 
him to chit-chat with you or any one else.” 

I returned sobbing to the kitchen. 

“ Come, come ! if you don’t stop crying I'll wring your 
young neck for you,” threatened my persecutor. “ I’ll make 
you smart, I can tell you. ” 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


9 


After this I received strict injunctions never again to speak 
to the woman who cleaned the building, and she was requested 
to mind her own business. 

The time for closing the library was eight o’clock in winter 
and nine in summer, but meetings occurred on an average four 
times a week, which kept the building open till about eleven. 
The working-day was therefore always long. 

After breakfast Mr. Bangs invariably took his way to the li- 
brary, which was opened to members at half-past nine. There 
he sat in front of a large table, attending to his duties as libra- 
rian, and rising to open the door whenever the bell was rung, 
unless I was there to do it for him, or a member at the other 
end of the room asked for a book. To them he was a standing 
volume of reference, for, knowing every book in the library, he 
could produce all the authorities on any given subject within 
the range of medical science. He was a walking catalogue, and 
as useful as an encyclopedia to those who applied to him for 
information. The life or death of many a patient depended 
upon the books he gave them, for according to those they pur- 
sued their treatment, and as one man’s food is, in medicine, 
another man’s poison, they lived or died by accident, for, un- 
fortunately it frequently happens that the writers of medical 
books are no wiser than those who accept them as their 
guides. 

It was the business of Mr. Bangs to address the printed cir- 
culars calling meetings of the members ; and it was also his 
business to post them, charging the institution with the amount 
of postage. But, in order to divert the latter to his own advan- 
tage, it was his habit to deliver, with the assistance of his 
mother, all those within the city of Boston. Mother and son 
were equally active in going from house to house, leaving these 
periodical announcements for the moderate sum which would 
otherwise have been paid to the post-office. 

I had not been long in the cheerless stone building, before 
I was called upon to serve an apprenticeship in this letter-car- 
rying business. 

“ Put on your cap and come with me,” said Mrs. Bangs, one 
morning, at about nine ; and she led me all over Boston, giv- 
ing me a circular to hand in whenever she came to the house 


10 


ADBIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


of a member, and allowing me to overtake her after doing it, 
and calling me a fiend, and threatening to flog me within an 
inch of my life if I kept her waiting. In this way I soon be- 
came acquainted with the city and the residences of the mem- 
bers, and after that I was sent out regularly to deliver circu- 
lars, as well as to leave and receive books. I became, in other 
words, the established errand-boy of the concern, without sal- 
ary, always receiving more kicks than pence for my pains. 

Mrs. Bangs contracted for the supply of coffee and cakes at 
some of the meetings, at twenty-five cents a head to those who 
partook of the refreshments. It was my business to carry in 
the tray containing cups and saucers, and otherwise make my- 
self generally useful as a waiter ; but Mr. Bangs usually carried 
in the coffee-pot, which his mother frequently brought to the 
door stealthily, and then, on seeing him, berated him severely 
for not coming to the kitchen for it. He would on such occa- 
sions endeavor to silence her by a prolonged “Hush !” but her 
tongue would continue wagging till he entered the room and 
closed the door behind him. Meanwhile i-he would retire to- 
wards the kitchen bewailing her condition in something like 
the following language : 

“ Here I’m toiling and slaving from morning till night — 
morning till night, wearing my body out by inches ; provoked 
all day long by a foolish son and that wretch of a boy, and 
what do I get for it all ? Ill not do it any longer. Ill not 
pinch myself as I have done ; I’m sick and tired of it. Here 
I’ve not spent half a dollar on my back for years, but have gone 
on patching and mending till I’m thoroughly worn out, and can 
hardly see out of my eyes.” “Why don’t you wear specta- 
cles?” says Bob. “ Yes, it’s all very well to talk, but where’s 
the money to come from ? How are we to find the money 
to pay the calls on his shares — I wish they were at the 
bottom of the sea — and to pay for his lectures only by sav- 
ing every little thing ?” 

On returning to the kitchen, she invariably vented her in- 
dignation upon me if I happened to be there, and threatened 
to turn me into the street if I ever vexed her again. 

With the lapse of time she proved herself a vixen of the 
most unmitigated character, and I was the special object of her 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


11 


wrath. She was a woman of no natural or acquired refine- 
ment, and she had no more mercy than a bloodhound. Yet 
she always strengthened her arguments and intensified her de- 
nunciations with quotations from the Bible, and was alike with 
her son a regular attendant at a Methodist Church, where she 
had paid pew-rent for many years. At love-feasts, too, she was 
seldom absent, and occasionally she presented herself at a class 
meeting, of which she was a member, and whenever her con- 
science permitted she received the holy sacrament. But where 
her Christian virtues lay, I could never discover. At her hands 
I suffered perpetual martyrdom. She had a natural inclination 
to inflict corporal punishment, and she lost no opportunity of 
gratifying it at my expense. “Spare the rod and spoil the 
child, 1 ' was one of her favorite quotations, always accompanied 
by a blow or a kick, an application of the birch rod, or a by no 
means gentle pulling of the ears. I have a distinct recollection 
of having been frequently knocked down by her with the assist- 
ance of a broom-stick, and then of her manifesting a sort of 
fiendish delight in crushing me under her feet. She always 
kept a rod, oi a cane, or both, (which she charged for as extras 
in my board-bill), suspended in one corner of the room, which 
answered the double purpose of kitchen and dining-room, and 
where I acted in the capacity of a boy of all work when not en- 
gaged in the building, by which I mean that portion of it dis- 
tinct from the house, as the rooms occupied by the Bangs' 
were called. 

1 had a hard life, indeed, with Mrs. Bangs, for, in addition 
to the duties I have already named, I was often called upon to 
assist in the washing of dishes and the peeling of potatoes. I 
had, moreover, to clean the windows of the house and make 
my own bed ; while, as the custom of the Bangs’ was too in- 
significant for any tradesman to feel it worth his while to send 
a man for orders, I had all the shopping to do. I had to carry 
home the meal, hominy or oat-meal for making my own break- 
fast, and the flour for making bread, for Mrs. Bangs consider- 
ed it more economical to make her own than to buy it ready- 
made, and I had to carry the kneaded dough to a bake-house 
afterwards and bring back a tally by way of receipt. I had to 
go to the butcher’s and the corner grocery-store and perform 


12 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


similar drudgery, and all because it was my misfortune to have 
been put to board with Mrs. Bangs. It was a cruel fate, and 
I often wept over my condition. But I was helpless. I sup- 
plicated to be allowed to go back to Kate Wilkins, but Mrs. 
Bangs swore that if I ever spoke on the subject again she 
would be the death of me. “Yes,” said she, “a -- — like 
you would look well going back there. Let me hear you talk 
of that again.” 

The Bangs had no visitors, beyond a very few relatives who 
came to see them only at long intervals, and a ring of the bell 
at the private-door always created a sensation when no one was 
expected. It was a bell seldom rung, save by one of the three 
regular inmates of that cheerless building. By myself it was 
always pulled with extreme gentleness to prevent its striking 
more than once ; by Mrs. Bangs it was invariably pulled 
quickly and with violence, and pulled again if by any chance 
I was not on the spot to open it promptly; by the librarian 
himself it was pulled timidly, so as to produce a feeble uncer- 
tain sound in the kitchen where it hung, for Mrs. Bangs flew 
into a passion with any one who rang it loudly. Frequently, 
indeed, the librarian was afraid to ring it all, and merely tapped 
at the door with his stick. He seldom had occasion to do 
either, but at night, for he went out regularly, unless on 
“ meeting nights,” after closing the library, and remained till 
eleven, and rarely a moment longer. His mother always sat 
up for him darning his clothes, and if he failed to return within 
the prescribed time, her wrath was great indeed. 

I had endured the miseries of my lot for about a year, when 
one day, about noon, the bell rang and Mrs. Bangs said, “ Who 
can that be at this time of day?” and took her way into the 
little front-parlor which looked out upon the street, where she 
saw from the window by a slight twist of the neck, that a 
strange woman, in homely garments, was at the door. She 
would not allow me to go to the door because I had a black eye 
and a cut cheek, the result of a severe pummelling with a 
brush-handle on the previous day, but she opened it herself. 
Her foregone conclusion was, that the woman was a beggar, 
and to beggars she never gave, for said she, “ they all come to 
thieve.” She therefore merely opened the door a few inches 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


13 


and gave in answer to an anticipated petition for alms, “Go 
away, we ’ve nothing for you,” and shut the door again, not- 
withstanding the hand outside, which endeavored to delay the 
movement while a word of explanation was offered. 

“ Now, go and black-lead that grate,” she said, returning to 
the kitchen, where I had just finished peeling some potatoes, 
for she had an objection to having them boiled in what she 
called their jackets. 

The next moment the bell was again rung. 


CHAPTER II. 

VERY MYSTERIOUS. 

“ The impudence of these beggars,” said Mrs. Bangs, 
“ passes all belief,” and she went to the door again in a rage, 
and seeing the same woman there, said: “What do you 
want ?” 

“ I want to see my foster-child,” was the reply ; “and I’ve 
come ten miles to see him. ” 

“ Whom do you mean ?” asked Mrs. Bangs, jealous of intru- 
sion. I know nothing about your foster-child.” 

“Well, he’s here — that I know,” said the stranger some- 
what indignantly, and at the same moment she caught sight of 
my inquiring eyes in the passage, and exclaimed in triumph, 
“ There he is! there he is!” and rushing past Mrs. Bangs, 
threw her arms around me and kissed me. 

Mrs. Bangs never forgave me for that. 

“ My dear, poor boy,” said the woman, “ I’ve not seen him 
for so long I hardly knew him. What’s the matter with your 
face, Washington ? Where did you get that black eye, and 
that mark on your cheek ?” 

Mrs. Bangs was exasperated by these inquiries ; and to pre- 
vent my telling the truth, and to hide her own cruelty, she 


14 


ADKIET WITH A VENGEANCE. 


said: “ He fell down, and hurt himself. He’s always getting 
into mischief, ” and as she spoke she cast a threatening look at 
me, as much as to say : “If you contradict me, I’ll flog you 
to death.” 

Meanwhile she remained, holding the knob of the unclosed 
door, evidently with the intention of inducing the stranger to 
take her departure, and casting towards her looks of indigna- 
tion and impatience. “ Come, come ; I’m getting ready for 
dinner, and I've no time to stand here, ” she said after a few 
moments’ delay, at the same time motioning the visitor out 
with her finger. 

But the other took no heed of her, in her joy at seeing me. 
I was afraid to show all the gratification I felt at meeting one 
who had been to me the only mother I ever knew ; for by the 
wicked eye of the woman who governed me, I saw that I should 
be made to suffer in the future for any offence of the kind I 
might commit now. My delight was, however, unfeigned ; and 
if I did not show it in act or word, it was none the less visible 
in my looks. 

“Ah!” said the visitor, regarding me with a fond compas- 
sionate glance, and addressing Mrs. Bangs, who, finding her 
efforts at summary ejection unsuccessful, now closed the door, 
and advanced towards us, “he was just like one of my own. 
I suckled him from the first month, and you can’t tell how bad 
I felt when they took him away. ” 

“ What’s your name ?” asked Mrs. Bangs. “ We don’t like 
people to come here, unless we know who they are.” 

“ Well, you needn’t be afraid of me,” was the reply ; “my 
name’s Kate Wilkins ; my husband’s name’s Bichard Wilkins 
and we live at Green, ten miles off, where we’ve lived for 
twenty years and more. I didn’t know till about six weeks ago 
where Washington had gone to, so I came to see him, and I 
hope, Mrs. Bangs, it’s no offence.” 

“ Oh ! no,” said the latter, with a change of manner, “ walk 
in,” and she opened the door of the small front-parlor, and in- 
vited Kate to be seated. I remained standing, for I knew that 
such a piece of presumption as sitting down in the parlor would 
have aroused the wrath of my great enemy. 

“Washington, you may go into the kitchen,” said Mrs. 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


15 


Bangs, in a tone of command. I was reluctant to leave, but I 
knew that my disfigured countenance reminded the old lady 
that she had just told a falsehood, and that she was afraid that 
the visitor would make some further remark about the accident 
which might bring out the truth ; and knowing the penalty of 
disobedience, I considered it imprudent to linger. 

44 Oh ! let him stay,” said my foster-mother. 

44 Mrs. Wilkins,” replied the other with an air of offended dig- 
nity, 44 I’m mistress in this house. ” Then turning to me, she 
said: “Come back, sir, when you’ve brushed your hair, and 
made yourself tidy. ” 

I returned, and found Kate giving Mrs. Bangs what that lady 
subsequently called a bit of my history. 

“The poor child,” said Kate, “he was given to me one 
night when I was bringing home some clothes for the wash. 
There was a gentleman and a little girl in a carriage, and after 
passing me, it stopped at the road-side. Just then I turned a 
corner with my basket, and I hadn’t gone many steps when 
some one touched my shoulder from behind, and looking 
round, almost frightened to death — for I had not heard a foot- 
step — I saw the gentleman standing by, and breathing quick, 
as if he’d been running. 

4 4 4 My good lady, ’ said he, for he was very polite, 4 don’t be 
alarmed; I only want to ask you a question.’ 

44 4 Sir, how you frightened me,’ said I, 4 what is it?’ 

“ 4 Are you a married woman ?’ he said. 

4 4 4 That’s a nice question,’ said I ; 4 if it’s any satisfaction to 
you, I am.’ 

“ 4 Well, listen to me,’ he said, 4 and put down your basket 
while I talk to you.’ 

44 1 began to feel frightened again, for there was nobody 
passing at that time. 

4 4 4 It’s just this,’ the gentleman went on to say, 4 a child, 
only a few days old, was left at my door, in a carpet bag, and I 
want to find some one to take care of it. I don’t like to send 
it to the police-station, for I think by its being left at my 
door that it may be the child of some one who knows me, and 
expects me to do something for it. ’ 

44 ‘Well, that’s a nice way to get rid of a child, at any rate,’ 


16 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


said I, ‘and I’m sorry for it ; but I’ve two of my own to nurse, 
and if a woman takes care of her own children, it’s enough for 
her to do.’ 

“‘Yes, I know all that,’ said the gentleman, ‘but I’ll pay 
you for your trouble. I’ll give you so much a week, and a 
hundred dollars now.’ 

“I looked up in astonishment. Says I: ‘Well, Sir, you’re 
very good to the child, but I don’t know as my husband would 
like me to take it.’ 

“ Then he argued with me a long time, and said : ‘ Oh! yes, 
he would. Wait here and I’ll bring you the child, and you can 
carry it home in the basket, and the hundred dollars with it.’ 

“ ‘ Then where shall I find you, Sir, for the weekly payments, 
after that’s used ?’ said I. 

“ ‘ Oh ! that’s all right,’ said he, ‘ I‘ll give you my name and 
address, ’ and he tore a leaf out of his pocket-book, and wrote 
his name and address on it. 

“ ‘ There,’ said he, as he gave it to me, ‘ how much a week 
will satisfy you — four dollars ?’ 

‘“Yes; I think that’ll be enough,’ said I, surprised at his 
liberality, for four dollars was as much as my husband had been 
making a week for a long time before that. 

“ ‘ Well then,’ said he, ‘I’ll pay you four dollars a week, half- 
yearly in advance, and this ’ — putting a hundred dollars in gold 
into my hand — ‘ is the first payment.’ 

“ I said, ‘ Thank you, Sir ; you’re very kind,’ and jingled the 
money together, to find out by the sound whether it was all 
good, for I hadn’t had so much in my life before. ‘ Well,’ 
said I, ‘ if I do this I take on myself a great risk, but perhaps 
you wouldn’t mind coming aud seeing my husband about it. ’ 

“ ‘ Yes, yes,’ said he, ‘ at some other time ; I’m in a hurry 
now.” 

‘“I hardly like to do it,’ said I. 

“ ‘ Well, wait here a minute, said he, and he ran back to where 
I guess the carriage was waiting, in the other road. When he 
returned, the little girl was with him, carrying the child. He 
took it from her, and told her to go back to the carriage, and 
then gave it to me. 

“ ‘ Why, you’ve got the child with you ?’ said I. 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


17 


“ ‘Yes,’ said he; ‘I brought it right away.’ 

“ I asked him if it had been fed lately, and he told me it 
had. I said, is it healthy ? and he said it was perfectly. ‘ It's 
a boy, ’ said I, ‘ and something like yourself, ’ but he didn’t 
seem to like my saying that, and to tell the truth I couldn’t see 
well, it was so dark ; but I had my suspicions that it was his 
own child, and I wanted to sound him about it. ‘ Well, you’ll 
come with me home, and see my husband ?’ 

“ ‘Not now,’ said he, ‘not now, but tell me your name, and 
where you live.’ 

“So I told him: Kate Wilkins, Cottage Road, Green. 

“ ‘ Well,’ said he, ‘ Mrs. Wilkins, take my word for it, it’s all 
right.’ 

“ ‘ Are you going to leave this shawl, ’said I, meaning the one 
the child was wrapped in. 

“ ‘ Yes,’ said he, ‘ everything. Now promise me, Mrs. WiL 
kins, to take good care of it.’ 

“I promised that I would, and then he shook me by the 
hand, said ‘good night,’ and ran back to the carriage.” 

“What a singular circumstance !” exclaimed Mrs. Bangs, and 
then turning her eyes towards where I stood, smiling at Kate’s 
recital of the narrative, she remarked : “ Look at him ; you’ve 
nothing to laugh at, Washington, I’m sure.” 

I agreed with her perfectly. 

“What sort of a man was he ?” inquired Mrs. Bangs, whose 
curiosity was fully aroused. 

“ He was a dark-faced man, about thirty, I should think, 
with black hair, and his beard shaved off. He was thin, too, 
and had an eye that seemed to see into my very inside, al- 
though it was almost dark.” 

At this description I laughed, and was in consequence 
severely reprimanded. 

“ He made me take that child, for I felt that I couldn’t help 
it,” continued Kate. 

“That was your father, Washington, I’ll be bound,” re- 
marked Mrs. Bangs. “ He wanted to get rid of you.” 

Kate resumed her story. 

“ Well, as I was telling you, I was left alone, with the child 
in my arms, and how to carry it and the basket, too, was a 

B 


18 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


puzzle to me. But I did it. I put the child under one arm, 
and the basket under the other, and carried them both home. 
My husband was at the door smoking when I got th.ere. 
“ Who’s child’s that ?” said he, as soon as he saw it ; and 1 
told him the whole story, and showed him the hundred dollars 
in gold. 

“ Light the candle,” said he, “and let us have a look at it. 
That’s what I call the hundred dollar prize-baby. I guess, 
Kate, that tale about the carpet-bag and door-step is all gas. 
Whoever it belongs to just wanted to get rid of it, and I don’t 
think you’ll ever hear any more of the man who gave it to you.” 

“But he gave me his address,” said I. 

“ How do you know that ? he very likely gave you that paper, 
just to make you take the child off his hands. It mayn’t be 
true. William Edmonds, Forty-seven Tremont-street, Bos- 
ton,” (that was the address written on the paper,) “may be 
bogus.” 

“I brought the child up at the breast, just as if it had been 
my own ; and when the first six months was up, I went to 
Boston, to see if I could find the gentleman, but nobody knew 
any one of that name at the address he had given me, and I 
returned home, feeling quite sad about it. And when I told 
my htisband, he said : 4 1 told you how it would be. ’ But I 

nursed the child all the same, and never expected to get an- 
other dollar. One morning, about six weeks after this, a let- 
ter was brought to me from the post-office, and on opening it, 
I counted ten ten-dollar bank-bills, with a note saying, ‘ This 
is for nursing the child intrusted to Kate Wilkins. Take care 
of him;’ and it was signed William Edmonds, but gave no ad- 
dress. I was overjoyed; and when my husband came home 
from his work I astonished him, I can tell you We received a 
hundred dollars every six months, in the same way, for nearly 
three years. After that the letters generally had the New- York 
post-mark, but they never gave an address where the letters 
came from, but were signed the same as the first. As the child 
grew up, I asked my husband what name we should give him ; 
and he said, 4 As he’s got no father, that we know of, we’ll 
call him after the Father of his Country, ’ so w r e gave him the 
name of Washington.” 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


19 


•“Ah!’ remarked Mrs. Bangs, contemptuously, ‘a pretty 
Washington he’ll make.’ 

“The neighbors called him Washington Wilkins; but my 
husband said it was best to make his second name Edmonds, 
after the gentleman who gave him to me.” 

“That’s what we call him now,” said Mrs. Bangs. 

“Well, after the three years, we never received a dollar, and 
never heard a word more from Mr. Edmonds ; till one day a 
man came to the cottage and said he wanted to take away the 
child. ‘ Who are you ? or whom do you come from ?’ said I. 
He said he was instructed — that was the word — by Mr. Ed- 
monds. I told him that was the very gentleman I wanted to 
see, and asked him where I could find him. He said he didn’t 
know. I said I wouldn’t let the child go, although we had to 
keep him for nothing, without I knew where he was going to. 
He said it was all right, and gave me a card with the name of 
a lawyer — a Mr. Barker, of Boston — on it, who would be re- 
sponsible, he said, for what was done. ‘Well,’ said I, ‘Mr. 
Edmonds owes for three years and-a-half’s board.’ 

“ ‘I know nothing about that,’ said the man. 

“ ‘ But,’ said I, ‘ if you don’t I do.’ 

“ He then told me that if I didn’t let the child go, I’d have 
to keep him for nothing, and asked him how much I’d take in 
satisfaction of the debt. I told him I’d speak to my husband 
about it before deciding, and just then he came home from his 
work. The man then said he’d give us a hundred dollars to 
clear off the debt, and if we didn’t take that we’d never get any- 
thing, and he'd make us give up the child. He threatened us 
with all sorts of things if we didn’t do what he said. But my 
husband wouldn’t agree, and said he’d go to Boston with the 
man, and see Mr. Barker, if he’d pay his expenses. He 
said he would, and they went off together. When 
my husband came back at night, he said he’d seen Mr. Barker, 
who told him he’d have to give up the child, but he wouldn’t 
tell him anything about Mr. Edmonds. He said the same man 
was coming on the next morning with a power of attorney to 
take the child away, and it would be better for us to take the 
hundred dollars, and give him a receipt in full. I lay awake 
and cried till near twelve o’clock that night, I was so sorry at 


20 


ADEIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


the thought of losing him ; and when the man came 
next morning, and paid the hundred dollars, and took the re- 
ceipt and the child, I said I’d go with him, and see where the 
poor little fellow went to ; but the man told me I couldn’t go 
where he was going, and that I’d better stay at home. So I 
sat down and cried for near an hour, with my bonnet on. That 
was the last I saw of my foster-child till to-day — poor little fel- 
low. I hope you’re taking good care of him, ma’am,” and she 
took me by the hand. 

Mrs. Bangs showed a little annoyance at this last remark, 
which in my presence sounded like a reproach ; for although 
she had subjected me as much as possible to her will, she felt 
that I considered myself an ill-used boy. Moreover, what 
right had Kate Wilkins to say she hoped anything of the 
kind ? 

“Mind your own business, and I’ll mind mine, Mrs. Wil- 
kins,” replied Mrs. Bangs tartly. “He’s taken a good deal too 
much care of, living in a house like this for two dollars and a 
half a week, and the payment of even that not guaranteed. 
He’ll never find another such home after he leaves us. ” 

Kate replied apologetically, but with a look of great compas- 
sion for me. 

“ He’s not near as stout as when he left us ; has he been 
sick ?” she continued. 

“No ; he’s growing long and lean, but I’m sure it’s not for 
want of plenty to eat. And so he was found in a carpet-bag ?” 
said Mrs. Bangs, anxious to change the subject. 

“So the gentleman told me, but I don’t believe it. I 
never did. There’s a screw loose, as my husband says, 
somewhere.” 

“ Don’t you want to know how Harry, and Johnny, and lit- 
tle Mary are, Washington ?” asked Kate, turning to me, and al- 
luding to her children with whom I had been reared. 

“ Oh ! yes,” said I, “how are they ?” and in reply Kate told 
me aH that had happened to them since I left. 

My foster-mother was still a fine, healthy, young-looking 
woman. She was a little above the medium height, with a 
tendency to embonpoint , a warm complexion, inclining to bru- 
nette, lips ripe and voluptuous, lustrous blue eyes, with 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


21 


long, dark, drooping, clearly-defined lashes, and hair of the 
deepest shade of brown. She was a little past her prime, but 
had a constitution superior to most women of her age and 
country. She was thirty-two, and looked it. When she 
smiled, she displayed diamonds in her eyes, rubies on her lips, 
and pearls in her mouth. These were her only jewels, and 
they were the gift of nature. The contrast between the two 
women was remarkable. 

“Now that I look at him,” remarked Kate, “it seems as if 
he was growing more and more like the gentleman who gave 
him to me. He had that same sort of dark curly hair and 
hazel-colored eyes, and that long kind of a nose ; and his com- 
plexion, too, was dark, almost pale. He wasn’t very tall, 
and I don’t think Washington will be either. He was broad- 
set like, without much flesh; and it seems as if Washington 
was taking after him in growing up thin.” 

“ Depend upon it, it was his father,” said Mrs. Bangs. “ He 
wanted to get rid of him, and was afraid to do any thing with 
him that might get him into trouble. ” 

Before going, Kate asked permission to take me back to the 
cottage, for a few days ; but Mrs. Bangs, in view of the loss of 
my services, peremptorily declined to grant it, saying as an 
excuse, “We don’t want our names mentioned outside the 
building. A nice thing indeed it would be for it to be said of 
us, that we kept a boy found in a carpet-bag, for two dollars 
and a half a week.” 

My foster-mother left me with tears in her eyes, to which 
my own rained a tribute of affection, and, alas ! sorrow 
that I was no longer hers. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 

The museum was a portion of the building little frequented. 
It consisted of a nearly square room, lighted from above, with 
four cases of minerals occupying the centre, and rows of glass 


22 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


jaTs of various sizes filling the three tiers of shelves, which 
stretched along each of the four walls. The jars contained dis- 
eased portions of the human body, preserved in spirits of wine, 
and were carefully sealed at the top, like so many pots of jam. 
A few dry and varnished skeletons hung by strings in the cor- 
ners, and collections of skulls were placed near on small stands. 
A door led from this room into an inner one, called the prepa- 
ration-room. It was not till I had been nearly two years an in- 
mate of the building that I entered its precincts for the first 
time. Then I was sent to assist Mr. Flint, the curator. I 
found him in the act of twisting a pair of human lungs about, 
with his forceps, on a large, blue willow patterned plate, as if 
they had been specimens of French cookery that he had just 
stuck his fork into, preparatory to dining. 

A glass jar more than half full of spirits of wine stood on the 
table near him, from which the lungs in question had just been 
taken, and where in all probability they had been preserved for 
the previous ten years. The curator was an emaciated, mum- 
my-faced man, of about forty-five, with piercing black eyes, 
deeply sunk in the head, and raven hair. He was narrow- 
shouldered, narrow-chested, and tall, with angular features; 
and his shrivelled form and bloodless, parchment-colored skin 
gave him a strange skeleton appearance. He wore a rough 
black overcoat, on which from time to time, as he removed 
some scrap of skin or flesh from the lungs, I saw him wipe his 
pincers, and the scraps were to be counted on his sleeve. 
Then when he had finished dressing his preparation, to my 
surprise, he dipped his finger into the old spirit and 
tasted it. 

4 4 What are you doing that for?” said I, making a wry face, 
and inquisitive to ascertain why he resorted to such a beve- 
rage. 

44 What for?” he replied, again dipping his finger and again 
applying it to his tongue. 44 I do that to find out its strength ; 
to see if it will do for second use, or how much fresh spirit I 
require to add. Here, make yourself useful ; go down these 
stairs, open the door of that closet, and bring out one of those 
glass jars you’ll see there.” 

The stairs led directly from the room. I went down them, 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE; 


23 


and opened the closet-door, when, to my terror, a skeleton 
sprang out and gripped me tightly in its embrace. The door 
at the head of the stairs was simultaneously shut, and I was 
left a prisoner in the dark. I uttered a wild, piercing cry, and 
struggled convulsively to tear myself away, but without suc- 
ceeding. Another frantic effort followed, and I fell, breathless, 
out of the arms of the grim monster, and struck my head against 
the foot of the stairs in my fall, just as the skeleton sprang back 
into the closet, and the door closed with it. I lay moaning and 
faint, and trembling with fright, on the floor ; and it was some 
moments before I had strength or courage to ascend the stairs, 
or call for help. After the lapse of a few seconds, that seemed 
like hours, I made a desperate attempt to escape ; and, with a 
cry of distress, and a dread of being pursued, I clambered up 
the steps and struck my head against the door, where, unable 
to open it, I clung, exhausted, with my hands and knees to the 
stairs. The darkness was impenetrable, and I shuddered at the 
thought of being clasped in the arms of Death. A creep- 
ing sensation came over me, and my blood ran cold. I 
was unable to account for what had taken place, it was so sud- 
den and unexpected. The end of the world might have arrived, 
or the spirits of the departed might have come down as aven- 
gers of insults suffered in the flesh. The curator might have 
been carried away by them, and I might be the sport of spec- 
tres, innocent as I was, because of being found in such a place. 
I had known nothing of that skeleton in the closet before, and 
I vaguely associated it now with the soul of the man whose 
lungs were on the plate in the next room. The day of judg- 
ment seemed to have come at last. Terrified and confused, I 
imagined every moment that the arms of the skeleton would 
again be thrown around me ; and I started in fear at the appre- 
hension, for I knew not what would follow. I had heard of 
Satan going about as a roaring lion, and I had heard dreadful 
stories of children being carried away to no one knew where. 
My time might have come, now. These were the thoughts 
that rushed upon me in wild succession, as, half delirious, I 
gasped for breath. I had all the timidity of a young child, 
although I was a boy of nearly ten ; and, to intensify the horrors 
of my situation, I had a natural dread of everything bordering 


24 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


upon the supernatural ; and a ghost story had never failed to 
inspire me with terror. 

The door was suddenly opened, and a loud, demoniacal laugh 
rang upon my ear. But I was prostrate, and unable to laugh 
in return. I lay moaning on the stairs, without stirring or say- 
ing a word. My fright now gradually turned to rage. I saw 
that I had been the victim of neither more nor less than 
a practical joke. But I was too weak at the moment 
to avenge its cruelty, or yet to express my indignation. I 
merely darted a look of scorn at the curator, who laughed, and 
laughed again, and then went to work upon the lungs, which 
he began to handle like a sponge. I had an old cent in my 
pockety the only money I possessed, and, as David chose a 
stone and a sling to make war upon Goliath, so I selected this 
single coin to revenge myself on the curator. When my 
strength had sufficiently returned, I raised myself up, and, 
without saying a word, threw the cent with deliberate aim and 
all the force I could give it, at the head of the object of my 
wrath. It struck him on the right temple, inflicting a deep, 
sharp cut, and his face instantly became more deathly and 
ghastly than before ; and his teeth ground. With an expres- 
sion of intense pain and ferocity, he flung the lungs, which he 
held in his hands, straight into my face ; and then was about 
to hurl something more formidable in the same direction, 
when he sank fainting on to a chair beside him, and the next 
moment he was unconscious. My hostility was disarmed in a 
moment, and I felt very sorry for what I had done. I wiped my 
face with my sleeve, and went to his assistance : and very soon 
I had the satisfaction of seeing him revive. But his recovery 
led to a nearly fatal result to myself ; for no sooner did he 
regain his consciousness, than he seized me by the arms, and 
held me as in a vice. “ Now,” said he, “ I’ll fix you and he 
dragged me to the open window, which looked into a steep 
yard with a flagged bottom. The fall from the window was 
more than a hundred feet, but he hurled me out of it with all 
his strength, and then sank down exhausted. By this time my 
cries had been heard by Mr. Bangs, 'who came running from the 
library to see what was the matter, and who found me cling- 
4 ing to the window-sill with both hands. Another moment and 


ADKIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


25 


I should have been hurled into eternity — for I was just relax- 
ing my hold, when a providential hand seized me by the hair of 
the head, and the collar of my jacket, and pulled me into the 
room. 

The double shock to my nervous system was almost too much 
for me, and I cried with hysterical violence. At this juncture 
Mrs. Bangs entered the room, and when she heard that I had 
cut the curator’s forehead, she said, “Come, march into the 
kitchen, Sir and, after chasing me across the room, succeed- 
ed in laying hold of the back of my neck, and leading me away 
captive to her own bed-room, where she commanded me to un- 
dress, and then tied me naked to the bed-post, and commenced 
flogging me with a cane with all her might ; and she flogged 
me till the blood trickled down my back and limbs, and the 
whole surface of my body was covered with bruises. In vain I 
cried for mercy, and screamed and writhed in agony. She was 
not to be diverted from her avowed purpose of flogging me 
within an inch of my life ; and when her task of cruelty was 
completed, she surveyed my lacerated form with a look of tri- 
umph and exhaustion, and said: “You’ll remember that as 
long as you live.” Then she drove me to my own room, and 
threw my clothes after me, saying, “There, don't let me see 
your face again, this day;” after which she turned the key in 
the door, and left me alone in my misery. I stood sobbing 
there, naked, for hours — although it was in the month of No- 
vember, and the room was without fire — for my wounds were 
too raw and painful to make my clothes bearable ; and if I 
could have endured the pain of lying down, the sheets of my 
bed would have clung to me like plasters ; and as these were 
changed only once every two or three months, if I had stained 
them with my blood the wrath of my tormentor would have 
been again aroused. 

It was not till after dark that the key was turned in the lock, 
and the door again opened. Then I recognized the form of 
Mrs. Bangs, with a basin in her hand. I was lying naked on 
the bare boards, shivering with cold, and incapable of effort. 
I had stood till I could stand no longer, and my knees knocked 
together, and every limb grew stiff and nearly useless. Then 
I lay down, as I hoped, to die. 


26 


ADKIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


“ Here, take this, you young wretch, and learn how to be- 
have yourself in future,” spoke the hated voice ; and she placed 
the basin on the mantel-piece. But I did not heed her ; only 
a groan of pain escaped me. 

“Yes, you may lie there, groaning, as long as you like. It 
will be good riddance of bad rubbish, if you never get up 
again. We shall be very glad, the Lord knows. We shan’t be 
at the expense of burying you, at any rate. The work-house 
will have to do that ; and that’s where you ought to be, now, 
instead of robbing a poor widow and her son, by living here 
when there’s no one to pay for your board. We haven’t had a 
dollar for your keep for more than six months, and we never 
expect to see another cent. Whoever you belong to wont 
own you, and leaves you to impose on other people ; and 
yet you give yourself airs, you, a dirty, hateful chit of a 
child, found on a door-step ; you, taken out of a carpet-bag ; 
you, you young devil ; I’ll be the death of you, yet.” 

She disappeared, and I heard the key again turned in the 
lock, as the door shut ; and I was left alone in the thickening 
darkness. With the stolid indifference to life which I felt, I 
had no appetite for food, no wish to nourish my persecuted 
body ; and although I had eaten no food that day, but a scanty 
breakfast of oatmeal porridge, I allowed the contents of the 
basin to remain untouched, untasted. I thought over the un- 
fortunate accident of my birth, and what Mrs. Bangs had so 
often repeated about me, and I wished to heaven that I had 
never been born. But I was helpless. Begret was useless, 
tears were unavailing ; and in this state of mind and body I 
crept into my bed, on the floor, and sobbed myself to sleep. 
******* 

Three years more passed away, and I was still in the stone 
building — the survivor of probably a greater number of sound 
floggings and more daily inflicted punishment than any boy 
of my age. Thank God ! I now looked forward to making 
my escape. I had been whipped too often, by that cruel crea- 
ture, unworthy the name of woman, who seldom called me by 
any better name than “a devil incarnate,” not to be glad that 
the time was near at hand when my torture would come to an 
end — at least in that earthly hell in which I had so long suf- 
fered. 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


27 


During those three years I had continued the drudge I was 
before. I had endured the same familiar hardships and priva- 
tions, and been subjected to the same inhuman language and 
treatment. No galley-slave in the vorld ever lived under such 
punishments, or was ever the object of such long-continued 
brutality as I struggled against, day after day, for the long, 
weary years in which I breathed the polluted atmosphere of 
the stone building. I would have exchanged my lot with a 
negro slave with a cry of delight, and found toiling on the 
cotton-fields of South-Carolina a very heaven in comparison 
with the odious condition in which my existence had been 
made a burthen to me — for the vixen who crushed me had no 
pity, no compassion, no charity, no religion in her black and 
withered heart — and yet she wore the mask of heaven to do 
the work of infamy. If I had cursed her for ever-and-a-day, 
my w r rongs would have justified the curse ; but I forgive her — 
with all my soul I forgive her — as I expect to do all who have 
injured me ; and if I had the power, I would return her good 
for the bitter evil she wrought me. But I will not shrink from 
the truth, for the memory of all that I suffered is too deep in 
me ever to be forgotten. And I was alone in the world. Bet- 
ter women than the one who thus poisoned my life have been 
burned at the stake, and swung from the gallows ; and yet 
this woman sat in the house of God, and knelt at the sacra- 
ment table, and insulted heaven by professing to serve the 
Lord, while she did the work of the Evil One, and paved her 
own way to Gehenna. 

The curator was not long in making his peace with me. 
And as he found me useful in the preparation-room and 
museum, I spent several hours a day with him during the three 
winter months he was employed in the stone building ; and as 
he was paid for his services by Mr. Bangs, who made a profit 
by the arrangement, I, by working for Mr. Flint, was in reality 
serving the Bangs’s. It was an outrage to put a boy of my 
age to labor in such an atmosphere of corruption as always 
prevailed there, arising from the masses of decomposed matter 
which filled numerous wash-hand basins, brown stone jars, and 
large dishes, some of which were entirely uncovered. 

The smell made me sick at first, but I gradually became ac- 


28 


ADEIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


customed to it. The curator used to share the old jars, plates, 
dishes and bones, when done with, with Mr. Bangs, and I was 
the agent deputed to sell them to the junk - dealers, 
who immediately sold the crockery to thrifty house-wives; 
while the bones, human though they were, found their way 
into the ordinary trade-channels. In order to save the bones, 
when the flesh was not wanted, Mr. Flint used to cut the latter 
off 1 in pieces, and either throw it into the fire, or through the 
window into the yard where there was a cesspool into which 
all the mortal remains in the building were periodically swept 
or emptied. 

The simmering sound and the smell of burning flesh gene- 
rally accompanied the presence of Mr. Flint, who always car- 
ried the smell of the room with him wherever he went ; for he 
appeared to have no change of dress, and he told me that he 
always threw his coat over his bed, at night, during the winter 
— a coat invariably covered with scraps of human flesh, and 
soaked with every variety of pathological pickle. 


CHAPTER IV. 

A CASE OF SUSPENDED ANIMATION. 

I was sitting alone in the kitchen, at about half-past nine 
o’clock, one evening in April, when I heard a vehicle stop in 
front of the private door of the stone building. Mr. Bangs had 
just gone out, and his mother had not returned from a visit to 
a dying brother. There was a ring of the bell, and I promptly 
answered it. 

“ Is Mr. Bangs within?” asked a tall, gaunt man, whom I at 
once recognised as “ Old Tom,” of the Medical College — one 
whose duty it was to procure subjects from the hospital for the 
dissecting-room, and who had been known to express himself 
in strong language when patients did not die fast enough to 
supply the requirements of the students. He was even said to 
have remarked to some of the former, whom he considered 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


29 


dilatory in dying, “ I thought we should have had you before 
this,” and considered it something of a joke. 

“ I've a sack of potatoes here for him,” said Tom ; “I guess 
I can leave it all the same,” and with the assistance of the 
driver of the cart I saw standing at the door, he carried it into 
the house. 

The door opening into the yard, which communicated 
with the rest of the building, was locked, and Mr. Bangs 
had taken the key with him; so at my suggestion, they laid the 
sack in a closet, adjoining the kitchen, and then went away. 
The arrival of a sack of potatoes was a thing that had never 
happened before in my time, and I wondered what could be the 
reason of it ; and finally concluded that they were a present. 
But, said I to myself, there must be something besides potatoes 
in the sack ; perhaps a flitch of bacon — who knows ? And my 
mouth began to water at the prospect of high living. There 
were certain angularities about the sack which potatoes would 
have been very unlikely to produce ; and, therefore, as soon a£ 
the men had taken their departure, I proceeded to satisfy my 
curiosity by feeling its contents from the outside. To my sur- 
prise, I found no round substances like potatoes, but something 
very like a flitch of bacon, or even a whole pig. I began to think 
that some one had sent Mrs. Bangs a whole hog from the country, 
but a moment afterwards my hand came in contact with a nose 
unusually prominent, as I thought, for a pig. Just then the 
cord with which the mouth of the sack had been fastened, gave 
way under my efforts to insert my hand, and almost simultane- 
ously I felt a movement of the heavy substance within, which 
was followed by a slight groan, as human as any thing I had 
ever heard before; and looking through the opening in the 
mouth of the sack, I beheld a human face. I was horror-struck, 
and shrank back in terror. Another groan and another move- 
ment of the sack, and I became assured that the body was 
alive. I moved away into the opposite corner of the kitchen, 
hesitating what I should do, or where I should go, when I 
heard another and more violent movement, and peeping 
stealthily into the closet, from where I stood, I saw the head 
and face of a man projecting through the mouth of the sack. 
There was no mistaking the sex, for the face was heavily 


30 


ADKIFT WITH A VENGEANCE* 


bearded and moustached. The mouth opened, and the words, 
“O Loud Jesus!” were uttered in a faint tremulous tone. 
The man was conscious, and I felt my courage return, but I 
was still afraid to approach. In a few moments I heard a 
struggle, as if he was trying to escape from the sack, and I ran 
in fear to the private door, fronting on the street. I opened 
it, and then slowly and noiselessly retraced my steps down the 
lobby to the kitchen, and peeped in. I saw nothing of the 
man, but heard a deep, long-drawn sigh, and then a sound as 
of one gasping for life. I was trembling with agitation, but 
still anxious to help my unfortunate fellow-being. Having 
left the street-door open, I felt emboldened and venturesome, 
like a general who knows that he has a line of retreat open ; 
and I cautiously advanced nearly into the middle of the kitchen, 
which directly faced the street-door. Then I made an effort to 
be brave, and called out, “Mister! heigh! you in the closet!” 
My breath failed me, my heart palpitated, and I felt 
a strange nervous thrill through my whole system, which 
was followed by a shudder. I receded, and again advanced, 
and spoke louder than before. This time it was: “Heigh! 
what can I do for you ? Heigh! you in the closet!” But 
there was no response. Suddenly I made a desperate effort at 
resolution, and seizing the candle which burned on the table^ 
I rushed forward with it to the closet. There I was riveted to 
the spot by the wild eyes of a naked figure crouching near the 
sack, from which it had just emerged. Never shall I forget 
that strange, appealing glance — that sad imploring, almost 
maniacal look. My humanity prompted me to aid the myste- 
rious stranger, but my physical courage was unequal to the 
shock. So far as I could see, he was short in stature, dark in 
complexion, and apparently not more than forty years of age. 
I began to trace hideous lines in the countenance before me, 
to conjure up a thousand terrors. I recoiled in panic, and 
overcome with confusion. The candlestick fell from my hand, 
and I rushed from the kitchen with a cry of alarm, and ran, 
I knew not why, up the stairs adjoining the door, instead of 
down the lobby into the street. At the moment, I seemed 
to be escaping from something that could follow me 
into the street, but not up the stairs. I soon discovered my 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


31 


mistake, for the stairs began to creak ; and through the dark- 
ness I saw the outline of an approaching figure. Tremblingly 
I shrunk into my room, and threw myself on the bed. The 
figure entered, and drew nearer ; and with it my pulse quick- 
ened, and my excitement increased. My skin was wet, my 
extremities cold, my face flushed. Again I shuddered, and 
uttered a mute prayer to God. 

But I had not been many moments there when a thrill of 
terror shook me from head to foot, at the touch of an icy hand. 
I cried aloud, and struggled to rise, but the strange man had 
clutched me by the legs, and I sank back exhausted. At that 
moment, to my great relief, he commenced sobbing. 

“ Let me go, let me go !” I shouted, trying to shake him off. 
“ Oh ! leave me ! leave me !” 

“Ah! good executioner, good executioner! have mercy 
upon me!” implored the naked figure, in a hoarse, rattling 
tone. 

The words startled me, and I began to think that he had 
been brought from the lunatic asylum, where he had feigned 
death, or fallen into a trance. My fortitude, nevertheless, re- 
turned with the appeal to me for mercy, and I said timidly : 
“ What can I do for you ? Would you like a drink of 
water ?” 

“Where am I?” asked the man. 

“ You’re in the medical building,” I replied. 

“ Medical building — am I? What for? TV here is it? Am 
I to be dissected ?” 

“ I don’t know ; I hope not,” said I, feeling afraid that my 
questioner might suddenly conceive the idea that I was 
an obstacle to his escape, and make an attempt upon my 
life. 

“ Is this Boston ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Is there any one about — any one watching ?” 

“There will be in a minute or two,” I replied, in dread of 
an attack. 

“Don’t betray me — will you?” said he, in apparent 
anxiety to communicate a secret, and get me to aid him in 
his plans. 


32 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


“No,” I replied, “I’ll not tell any body. 

Then there came the startling whisper; “ Tm the man that 
was hanged /” 

“ When ? this afternoon ?” I ejaculated in amazement, for 
I knew that a pirate had been executed at two o’clock at the 
county jail, and that Mr. Bangs had been present as a spec- 
tator. 

“ I don't Enow when, but it can’t be long since. Can you 
get me some clothes to put on without exposing me ? If I’m 
found alive, they’ll hang me over again, sure. ” 

I hardly knew how to act at this juncture, between dread of 
the man in such a desperate position, and of both Mr. and Mrs. 
Bangs, if I complied with the request. I would, I thought, 
not only be severely flogged, but run the risk of being handed 
over to the police, and possibly hanged myself, if I gave away 
any of the librarian’s old clothes. 

“ Strike a light,’' said the stranger, in the tone of one who 
was determined to carry out his purpose. 

“ I’ll go down stairs and get one,’’ said I, and I darted out 
of the room, and down-stairs into the kitchen, and very soon 
returned with a lighted candle, which I placed on the top of a 
set of drawers in the bed-room, near the door. 

“ Where are the clothes?” asked the man, whose neck I now 
perceived to be swollen and excoriated. 

“Mr. Bangs’s clothes are in the other room — no one’s there.” 

The man took up the candle, and followed in the direction 
in which I pointed with a sort of spasmodic movement. I 
trembled for the consequences, and shivered at the sight. I 
watched his tottering steps, but did not dare to follow. Slowly 
I descended the stairs to the lobby, and then, like Lot’s wife, 
turned to look back, and stood listening and waiting as still 
and as motionless, and almost as white as a pillar— of salt. 

Ten minutes had hardly elapsed when I heard a shuffling 
noise at the head of the stairs, and then the sound of descend- 
ing footsteps. A shadow at the same time was cast upon the 
wall, and in another moment I beheld the strange figure, can- 
dle in hand, coming towards me. The wild, black, anxious 
eyes looked down upon me wistfully, and a hollow voice asked : 
“ Is the turnkey at the door?’’ 


ADKIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


33 


“ No one’s at the door,” I said, “do you want to go out?” 

“ Yes,” and the tottering steps came nearer and nearer. 

The figure was no longer naked, but clothed in the ill-fitting 
garments of Mr. Bangs, from head to foot, commencing with an 
old brown cap, and ending with a pair of worn-out shoes. 

“ Can I go ?” inquired the dark-faced culprit, as we reached 
the foot of the stairs, and at the instant he caught sight of the 
open door, and with the exclamation, “God bless you, my 
boy; you’ve saved me,” he rushed forward to the doorway. 
The next moment two bodies met in collision, and I heard the 
angry voice of a startled woman. Mrs. Bangs and the pirate 
had met. 

“ Oh ! let me go !” exclaimed the man, in a tone of frenzy ; 
and pushing past the old lady, he disappeared in terror down 
the street, while she leant against the door-post, with her 
hand against her chest, drawing short breaths and uttering, 
“ Oh! oh ! oh!” as if her last hour had at length come. 

“What did that man want?” she demanded, when she had 
sufficiently recovered to speak. “ He wanted to rob the build- 
ing, I’m sure. How came you to let him in? you young 
wretch ! I’ll give it to you. ” 

I saw that I was in trouble. But I determined to tell the 
truth, and I narrated the entire circumstance, to the intense 
horror and indignation of Mrs. Bangs. 

“ You’re telling me a lie, I know you are,” said she. 

In vain I pointed out to her the sack in which the man had 
been brought, and referred her to “ Old Tom,” for corrobora- 
tion of the leading fact. She was insensible to conviction. 

“ I’ll send for the police as soon as ever Mr. Bangs comes 
home, and have you sent to jail, you young, lying, thieving 
ragamuffin,” was her threat. “They’ll flog the truth out of 
you there,” she continued. “ Who’s to pay us, I’d like to know, 
for all them good clothes that you’ve given to that robber ?” 

“I didn’t give them,” I pleaded; “he took them himself, 
because he hadn’t any of his own.” 

“You didn’t, eh?” and she ran at me savagely, and struck 
me a violent blow on the head with a broom-stick. 

“ Who is he ?” she demanded, with a fresh burst of passion, 
and holding the broom-stick still in her hand, 
o 


34 


ADRIFT WITH A YENGEANOE. 


“ He’s the man who was hanged,” I replied, sobbing. 

“ You will provoke me to murder you, will you?” and the 
old woman’s blows with the stick began to descend upon me, 
like a shower of hail-stones. I ran yelling about the house, 
pursued by my persecutor, from whom I was unable to escape. 
Finally she succeeded in knocking me down, and then she 
jumped on me, and kicked me in the face. 

‘•Here!” she exclaimed, nearly out of breath, “ we’ve been 
keeping you for sixteen months, without a penny, and you do 
nothing but rob us — that’s the gratitude you show, eh ?” and 
she struck me again. 

It was not long before Mr. Bangs tapped at the door with his 
stick, and his mother opened it on the instant. 

“ Well, Robert,” she said, with a look of alarm, “ the house 
has been robbed. ” 

Mr. Bangs opened his eyes wide, and raised his hands in 
wonder. Entering the kitchen, however, and seeing that the 
furniture was still there, he regained his usual composure. 

“ Where was Washington ?” he inquired. 

“Law ! man ; he did it,” and she proceeded to tell how she 
was nearly knocked down by a man who ran out of the house 
as she came in, and what a pack of lies I had told her about 
him. 

“I’m surprised that ‘Old Tom’ should have brought the 
body here ; he was to have taken it to the dissecting-room,” re- 
marked Mr. Bangs, evidently crediting my story. 

“He said he’d call in the morning to see you about it,” 
spoke I. 

“But at any rate it couldn’t have been the man who was 
hanged,” he continued ; “I can’t understand it. I’d better go 
and see ‘ Old Tom,’ right away, and learn what he has to say. 
Washington, I think, had better come with me.” 

His mother allowed him to go, but made him promise to 
return by half-past eleven. 

After a sharp walk of a quarter of an hour, we came to a tall 
tenement-house, in a narrow street, and then groped our way 
up to the second floor. Here Mr. Bangs knocked, and his 
summons was answered by the individual of whom he was 
in quest. 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


35 


“ What was in the sack you left for me to-night ?” 

“Oh, Sir!” said “ Old Tom,” “I’m sorry you’ve been put to 
the trouble to come here, because I did that. I was coming in 
the morning to take it over to the college. You know it was 
the body of Jones, the pirate, as was hanged this morning ; and 
I had to take it out of the prison to-night, or it would have 
been buried. I hadn’t a notion I should have been so late in 
getting it away from there, and I didn’t think I should find the 
college locked up when I got there, and no one to answer the 
bell. The janitor had gone out, I guess, so I thought the best 
thing I could do was to bring the body to you to lie in the 
building till morning. I thought I should have found you in, 
but you’d gone out, and locked up every thing, so I’d no place 
to leave it, but in the kitchen-closet. I hope you’re not vexed 
at it, Sir.” 

“ No ; but the man’s gone !” exclaimed Mr. Bangs. 

“Old Tom’s ” eyebrows went up, and his eyes seemed to 
project out of their sockets. 

“Gone! Sir. Who took him?” 

“He got out of the sack and dressed himself,” said I. 

A smile of incredulity and wonder passed over Tom’s face. 

“ The man that I brought was dead — he’d been hanged. It 
couldn’t have been him. How could a dead man get up and 
dress himself ? If this was the first of April, I’d think you were 
fooling me.” 

I told him the whole story, but he was incredulous to the 
last. 

“I’ll go with you,” said he, “and see if I can’t find him. 
If it’s as you say, it’s the strangest thing I ever heard of in 
all my life. ” 

Tom returned with us, and was shown the empty sack, and 
at his own request was allowed to search all the rooms and pas- 
sages of the house. 

“That’s the sack,” said he, “ but the devil’s taken the man. 
It’s the first time I ever knew a corpse spirited away like that. 
The fellow’s soul, I can tell you, has got up a conspiracy with 
his body. Hanging him was only a joke,” and he left the build- 
ing in a quandary. 

Months elapsed, but nothing was heard of the man who had 


36 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


been hanged. It was put down by the Faculty as a miraculous 
case of recovery, and by Mrs. Bangs as only a trick to rob the 
house, and she never ceased to remind me that I was a confed- 
erate in the theft of the librarian’s old clothes ; but the evi- 
dence, she admitted, was not strong enough against me to jus- 
tify a prosecution, and therefore her threat of handing me over 
to the police was never carried into execution. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE FATAL STRUGGLE. 

Mr. Flint, the curator, and Mr. Bangs, the librarian, quar- 
relled about money matters. The former maintained that he 
was entitled to seventy-five dollars more than the other was 
willing to allow ; and in consequence of this disagreement, the 
curator refused to continue his labors any further, and went 
abroad denouncing him as a cheat, and uttering threats. 

He called at the building repeatedly to demand what he con- 
sidered his due, and was invariably violent in his language. 

On one memorable Saturday, when Mr. Bangs was eating his 
homely dinner, at the kitchen table, the bell of the hall-door 
rang, and I ran to open it, and admitted Mr. Flint. 

“ Is Mr. Bangs in the library ?” 

“ No ; he’s eating his dinner.” 

(l Tell him I want to see him.” 

I delivered the message, and Mr. Bangs returned the reply, 
that he was engaged, and had no time to see him. 

“ No time, eh !” repeated the curator, grinding his teeth. 

“ Is Mrs. Bangs with him?” 

“ No ; she’s gone to market.” 

“ Then I’ll go and have a talk with him,” and he started 
forward with gleaming eyes to compel an interview. 

“ I’ve come for that seventy-five dollars,” he said, with an 
air of great determination, when he arrived in the presence of 
Mr. Bangs. 


ADKIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


37 


“ I don’t want to have anything more to say to you about 
that. I’ve done all that I intend to do,” replied the latter, 
indignant at the intrusion. 

High words arose, in the midst 'of which the curator seized 
the librarian by the coat-collar, and forced him against the 
kitchen wall. A struggle ensued, and both men grabbed at 
each other’s throats, and fell together. 

“ Give me the poker!” shouted Mr. Bangs, trying to over- 
power his adversary by choking him. The other made a des- 
perate effort to escape from his clutches, but before he suc- 
ceeded I had obeyed the librarian’s call. To my intense horror, 
no sooner had he grasped the poker with his left hand, while he 
held on to the throat with his right, than he plunged it deep 
into the socket of one of the curator’s eyes, and then with 
brutal fierceness he withdrew it, and ran it into the other. 
The struggle was over that very minute, and when the librarian 
released his grasp of the throat there was not a movement to 
indicate that the curator was alive. 

The face of Mr. Bangs was livid with excitement and rage, 
and his agitation was so great that his knees knocked together 
when he attempted to stand ; and overcome with a violent tre- 
mor, he was compelled to sit down. 

Half-an-hour elapsed, and still the body showed no signs of 
returning animation. “I think he’s dead,” I said; and I stood 
in fear of being implicated in the crime of murder. There was 
a ring of the hall-door bell, and I ran to open it and admitted 
a member of the library. Then I returned to the kitchen, and 
found Mr. Bangs leaning over the corpse, and putting his ear 
to the heart, at the same time that he felt the wrist. 

There was no pulse. 

The private door-bell rang. 

“ Go and see who that is,” said he, “ and let no one in but 
Mrs. Bangs.” 

I went into the parlor, and peeping through the window, saw 
no one but her at the door. I opened it, and she flew at me 
for not admitting her sooner ; and walking straight into the 
kitchen, entered the presence of death. 

“ God bless my soul and body, what’s the matter, now ?” she 
exclaimed. “I never go out but what something goes wrong 
before I get back.” 


38 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


“Hush !” and her son tried to awe her into silence. 

She saw the figure on the floor, but it was some minutes 
before she discovered that it was the dead body of Mr. Flint, 
and that her son was his mtirderer. 

Mr. Bangs was in great distress, and consulted his mother as 
to the course it would be best to pursue. 

“ It will never do to let it be known. It might go hard with 
me,” he reasoned; “and at the best we’d have to leave the 
building.” 

“ What made you let him into the kitchen ?” demanded Mrs. 
Bangs. 

“ How could I help it, mother — Washington let him in, and 
he followed him in spite of my message ?” 

“ Ah ! that young fiend is at the bottom of every thing that’s 
bad,” and she cast a threatening look at me. “If,” she con- 
tinued, “ he breathes a word about this to any living soul, I’ll 
break every bone in his body.” 

The consoling words had no sooner escaped her lips than she 
said : “ Well, Robert, what are you going to do ? It won't do 
to leave the dead body here, lying right in my way. ” 

“Well, what am I to do?” asked Mr. Bangs, perplexed and 
irresolute. 

“Do what you like,” said his mother, “ only take it into the 
laboratory, or somewhere out of my sight.” 

“ Give me something for a cover, then,” said the son — “a 
sheet will do ; ” and when this was thrown loosely over the 
corpse, I assisted him to carry it into the laboratory. The 
latter was a dark room, opening into the passage connecting 
the main building with that part of it occupied by the Bangs’s. 
It was on the ground-floor, and communicated with the steep 
back-yard into wh'ch one of the windows of the preparation- 
room opened. 

There I left Mr. Bangs alone with the dead man, and returned 
to the kitchen, to wash up the “dinner things.” Late in the 
afternoon he came to his mother, and told her to take care of 
the building while he went down-town. He had not been gone 
more than an hour and a half when he returned, with a cart, 
containing a cask weighing probably between sixty and seventy 
pounds, marked “Potash,” which the driver delivered at the pri- 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


39 


vate entrance of the building, and Mr. Bangs with his own 
hands afterwards rolled to the laboratory-door. There he drew 
from his pocket a key, and unlocked it, and the man and the 
cask entered the room together. The corpse was still lying on 
the floor, gradually becoming stiff and cold. 

There was a large iron boiler, with a fire-place underneath, 
fixed against the wall in one corner of the room nearest the 
yard. It was used by the woman who cleaned the building for 
warming the water for washing and scrubbing purposes. Into 
this Mr. Bangs put the whole contents of the cask, and then 
turned the tap above, and allowed it to run till the boiler was 
half-full : after which he made a fire. 

“Remember; Washington, you must not say a word about 
Mr.- Flint having been here to-day, to a living soul.” 

“ No ; I’ll not say a word,” was my reply. 

After he had cut and dragged the clothes off his victim, he 
said : “Take hold of his feet, now, I want to lift him up.” I 
obeyed, reluctantly; and Mr. Bangs raised the head and 
shoulders, till they rested against the edge of the boiler. Then 
he tried to twist the inflexible trunk into a crescent shape, and 
bend the limbs at the joints so that he could put the whole 
mass into the boiler at once ; but the body was too rigid to 
allow of this. He seemed puzzled for a moment whether to 
cut up the corpse, to make it fit in, or leave the legs projecting 
out; but he quickly decided upon the latter, and to my inex- 
pressible horror pushed the body, head foremost, into the so- 
lution, which was now warm. Having stuffed the dead man’s 
clothes, and the staves of the potash-cask into the fire, he left 
the caustic to do its work. The legs projecting out of the 
boiling solution, presented a sickening spectacle, from which 
I was glad to escape. 

Mr. Bangs left the room, locking the door and carrying the 
key with him. He returned in half-an-hour, and fed the fire ; 
and the solution having already softened the flesh, he found no 
difficulty in pushing the whole of the body into the boiler. 

I was surprised at the calmness which had followed his re- 
cent agitation, and still more at the cold cruelty of an observ- 
ation that fell from his lips, in the midst of a scene so full of 
horror. Who could imagine any thing more heartless and 


40 


ADEIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


flippant at such a time, than : “ These are melting moments, 
as the sugar said to the tea ! ” But Mr. Bangs uttered it in 
allusion to the dissolving body of the man he had mur- 
dered. 

In three hours more he entered the room again, candle in 
hand, and found all that was mortal of the curator dissolved, 
and nothing remaining in the boiler but the solution, which 
had changed to a brown, saponaceous liquid. Not a particle 
of bone or muscle, flesh or skin ; not a tooth or finger-nail re- 
mained. The whole man had melted away. 

He lost no time in carrying the fluid — a jug full at a time — 
to the mouth of the cesspool in the yard, down which he pour- 
ed it ; and very soon the boiler was empty. 

After this he returned to the kitchen, where he found his 
mother crying, and immediately his courage forsook him, and 
he appeared overcome with remorse. He now regretted the 
disposition he had made of the body ; and I could see that he 
feared my turning State’s evidence against him. As for my- 
self, I was miserable and conscience-stricken in the extreme, 
for the share I had been made to take in the dreadful deed. I 
felt in peril of my life, and utterly wretched from this time for- 
ward, and resolved to make my escape from the oppressive 
thraldom in which I had been so long held as soon as possible. 
The thought of being dissolved in potash, and no trace of my 
existence left, haunted me night and day ; and I shuddered at 
my own imaginings. 

I had no ties, no motives of interest to bind me to any par- 
ticular spot on earth ; and when all the world was equally the 
same to me, why should I linger where my bread was so dearly 
paid for ? Mr. Barker, the lawyer who had entrusted me to 
the care of Mrs. Bangs, had long discontinued his payments for 
my board, and had given notice to her that his client, 
the very mysterious gentleman of the door-step and the 
carpet-bag, was no longer in America, and had left no pro- 
vision for my support : and that consequently she was at 
liberty to act according to her discretion with regard to keep* 
ing me or turning me out of doors, I had been taunted and 
threatened with this, daily, since the notice came. 

It is true that after the murder I was less abused than be- 


ADEIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


41 


fore, and Mr. Bangs in particular endeavored to smooth my 
way ; but young asT was, I likened the change to the calm 
which often precedes the earthqu ake or the storm. 

I now lay awake at night, weaving plans for the future. I 
could read and write ; and while assisting Mr. Bangs in the 
library, I had picked up that sort of information and exper- 
ience which gives a boy confidence in himself. I could read 
print, even when I left the cottage of Kate Wilkins — for 
although the wife of a journeyman carpenter, she taught me 
my first spelling lessons ; and my earliest efforts with the pen 
were made under her guidance. Sihce coming to the Bangs’s 
I had not neglected to seek after improvement ; and notwith- 
standing the disadvantage of never having been to school, I 
flattered myself that I knew a thing or two more than many 
boys who had. I had been schooled in adversity and hardship, 
and it would be strange indeed if I found the world harder than 
my life had been in the stone building. 

Meanwhile I heard of no inquiries after the curator. He 
was an unmarried man, with no one to care whether he lived or 
died ; and when he failed to return as usual to his lodgings, 
the probability is that his landlady thought he had disappeared 
like some of her former lodgers, because of the debt he owed 
her. Thus, silently and mysteriously, do many among us 
pass away to that bourne whence no traveller returns. 


CHAPTER VI. 

I BEGIN THE WORLD ON MY OWN ACCOUNT. 

The dread of sharing the fate of the curator increased upon 
me with the lapse of time. The idea of being dissolved in the 
large boiler, like a lump of sugar in a cup of tea, haunted me 
day and night ; and once I awoke in terror from a dream in 
which I felt myself plunged, head foremost, into .a steaming 
solution of potash. I knew that my knowledge of the murder 
made my existence dangerous to the librarian, and I harbored 


42 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


the belief that the time might come, when in order to guard 
against the possibility of my divulging his crime, he would not 
hesitate to repeat it. Imagine therefore my feelings ! 

“If you ever breathe a word of that,” threatened Mrs. 
Bangs, “I’ll tear you limb from limb ; I’ll make cat’s meat of 
you ; you’ll never live to tell another tale ” — and she flew at 
me with a frying-pan, by way of making a deep impression 
upon me, physically and mentally. 

“ Oh, I won’t ! I won’t !” I exclaimed in fear and trepidation, 
at the same time endeavoring to escape from the assault; 
but the next moment I staggered under a blow that made me 
lean against the kitchen-door for support, while the floor 
seemed to heave beneath me, and the walls to swim round. 
My first vague impression, after partially recovering from the 
shock, was that my skull was fractured. My head ached 
violently where it had been struck ; and, added to extreme dim- 
ness of vision, all the colors of the rainbow danced before my 
eyes. A frightful faintness and a fear of being struck again 
overcame me, and I sank involuntarily to the ground, where I 
lay prostrate and shuddering. I was slightly aroused from a 
lethargy that was stealing over me by a violent kick, which was 
repeated. I thereupon made a feeble but desperate attempt 
to rise, in which, however, I failed. After that I became un- 
conscious ; and when next restored to reason, I was lying in 
the narrow yard leading to the main building, with my clothes, 
face and hair dripping wet, a bucket of water having been 
thrown into my face by Mrs. Bangs in order to hasten my re- 
covery. I was light-headed and weak, and unable to walk 
steadily for a few days after this ; and I looked forward with 
melancholy pleasure to the hospitable grave. I felt as if the 
top of my head had been crushed in, and that congestion of the 
brain would soon terminate my sufferings. But I nevertheless 
recovered my health gradually, as I had done from previous 
attacks of the kind— for since my first entry into the building, 
my cranium had seldom been without bumps not developed by 
nature or education, and unknown to the phrenologist ; and it 
was a common thing for Mrs. Bangs to say, as she struck me 
on the head with a poker or broomstick, “There’s another 
lump for you, you wretch” — meaning one of the afore-mention- 
ed bumps. 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


43 


It was not many weeks after this, and on a sunny morning 
in September, that I left the stone-building on an errand from 
which I never returned, doubtless leaving both Mr. and Mrs. 
Bangs in a quandary as to the cause of my unexpected disap- 
pearance. Making my way to East-Boston, without a single 
regret at the course I was about to adopt, I went from ship to 
ship seeking a place as cabin boy, for the sake of going to sea 
— that great refuge of dissatisfied youth. I had walked many 
hours, and spoken to many people, before I came to a schooner 
loading for New-York, to the master of which I addressed my- 
self. I told him that I was in search of my father, and that I 
believed he was in New-York. I asked him to take me on 
board, and after some hesitation and questioning, he assented. 

I was thereupon sent forward to assist in the galley, and was 
otherwise made generally useful about the vessel, which sailed 
on the day after I joined her. 

I could imagine the indignation which Mrs. Bangs displayed 
as the day went by and I failed to come back, and I know that 
I enjoyed the idea of her vexation at my taking French leave 
at last. Astronomically I was no longer a fixed star, but a 
comet, and I was disposed to be erratic. 

I pictured her to myself in a state of fury, thus talking to the 
librarian: “ That young wretch has got into some mischief and 
been taken up by the police, depend on it. Oh ! he’s the worst 
torment ever any poor soul had in a house. I shouldn’t won- 
der, now, if he goes and tells all about that potash business. 
What a fool yop. were, Robert — what a fool you were, I say— 
to let that boy know any thing about it. Why, how could you 
help it, do you say ? What need was there of getting him to 
help you to do what you did with the body ? Yes, I shouldn’t 
wonder if he goes and turns State’s evidence against us, and 
we were both hung. Put on your hat, man, and go to the 
station-house and see if he’s there ; what’s the use of standing 
there, staring. I wish we’d poisoned the young fiend, and got 
him out of the way before this. And I’ll do it, too, if ever he 
comes back here — and I hope to the Lord he may. ” 

I was eager to leave the schooner after her arrival at the 
Empire City, and so escape the rude hardships of a life for 
which I was physically unfitted. I felt glad when I found my- 


44 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


self in the busy streets, which I fondly hoped would lead me to 
a better home than I had found in Boston ; and I walked cheer- 
fully along, hoping that something would turn up to my advan- 
tage, or manna be rained down to me from heaven. Mean- 
while I knew not how I should get my next meal, or where I 
should lay my head on the coming night, and my only trust 
was in Providence. As the day advanced and I became tired 
and hungry, the enthusiasm I had felt on stepping ashore grad- 
ually diminished, and hope gave way to dejection as the sun 
sank grandly in the west, and the sky darkened at the approach 
of night. The sidewalks were filled with home-returning mul- 
titudes, and so were the cars and omnibuses. But for me there 
was no such place as home. I was alone upon the tide of 
life, alas! — adrift on an inhospitable world. To be alone 
and friendless, and penniless and houseless, in a great 
city, is to be alone indeed. Civilization is cruel — heart- 
less ; and Christian charity, that rarest of virtues, can hardly 
be said to be one of its component parts. Where could I turn 
for relief ? To have asked for food or shelter would have been 
to beg, and to have earned for myself the contempt which all 
beggars have to suffer. But I was too proud to beg ; I 
would rather have gone into a baker’s shop, and stolen a crust, 
feeling that I was justified by necessity, than to have appealed 
to the cold charity of a world which had only bequeathed to me 
a life of misery. God would have been my judge, speaking 
through my conscience in such a case, and I should have been 
acquitted. But where Man is the accuser, God ^nd conscience 
are too often ignored. 

Why, I asked, should I have been born to suffer, when mil- 
lions around me lived in perennial ease and luxury ? Why, in 
a country whose written Constitution declares that all men are 
born free and equal, should I have met with so cruel a fate ? 
Where was the much- vaunted equality of republicans ? Was I 
not a republican, and was I a greater-sinner than my more for- 
tunate neighbors ? I failed to penetrate the mystery of society. 
But it seemed to me, that if I had been born a North-American 
Indian, instead of a citizen of the United States of America, it 
would have been better for me. The primeval wilderness 
would then have furnished all that my necessities required, and 


ADKIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


45 


without price. Nature would have supplied my simple wants, 
and to take would not have been to steal. Mammon would not 
have been the god which my people worshipped ; money 
would not have been the summum bonum of their existence, 
the ultima thule of all their efforts ; and petty larceny, embez- 
zlement, forgery, and all the other crimes to which money has 
given rise, would have been happily unknown. 

Strange reflections, it may be thought, for a boy hardly four- 
teen ! But be it remembered, that though young in years, I 
was old in sad experience. I had been cradled in adversity, 
schooled in misery, and fed upon contumely and bitterness 
that had filled my heart, and now overflowed in gall. And 
these were only thoughts — thoughts that flitted vaguely through 
an understanding quickened by pain, and ripened by early fa- 
miliarity with hardship. I could not, then, have reduced 
them to the language I now employ ; but what I now say is 
what I then thought. 

Wearily I walked the streets, reflecting upon the past and 
speculating upon the future. From the Past I was glad to es- 
cape ; and yet from the Future, I shrank timidly and sorrow- 
fully, so dismal did it appear. Although schooled so deeply in 
a certain kind of suffering, and inured to privation, I was al- 
most a stranger to rude contact with the outer world. I had 
hitherto led a life of comparative seclusion, but now I was en- 
tering upon a new experience, and one not likely to be less 
painful than the other, only differing in kind. I was not cal- 
lous ; my sensibilities were not blunted ; I was not lost to a 
sense of shame ; nay, I was far more acutely sensitive than 
most boys of my age. It would, perhaps, have been 
better for me if my nervous organization had been less fine, 
and if nature, which had cast my lot in thorny places, had ren- 
dered me less vulnerable to the stings and arrows of outrageous 
fortune. My susceptibility aggravated the effect of my misfor- 
tunes, and intensified my grief. 

Seeing no prospect of food or shelter .ashore, I retraced my 
steps reluctantly to the schooner, which lay alongside a pier in 
the East B-iver ; but I was told that there was no room for me 
there, and the master was absent, ashore, for the night. Some 
crackers were given to me, however, and with these I walked 


46 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


away, I knew not whither. Like Benjamin Franklin, with his 
penny-roll, I ate my frugal meal as I passed along ; and if it 
was too plentifully moistened by my tears, it was because I could 
not help it. For a moment I felt that it would have been 
preferable for me to have continued to brave the terrors of 
Mrs. Bangs, than thus voluntarily to have thrown myself upon 
the mercy of an unmerciful world — out of the frying-pan into 
the fire as it were — but it was only for a moment ; the dread 
of ever meeting her again overcame me, and made me willing 
to endure death itself rather than return to the scourge of her 
presence. Kate Williams was too far away now, for me to 
hope for any succor from her ; and she had children enough of 
her own to keep, without such an extra burthen as myself to 
prey upon her larder. But why think of going back ? I sud- 
denly asked myself, surprised at my own reflections. I ran 
away to sea, to begin a career of my own — to obtain my re- 
lease from an oppressive yoke ; aye, even young as I was, to 
eat the bread of independence. The world must be hard 
and heartless, indeed, if it would not afford me thus much. 

Moody, meditative, melancholy, silent, I continued walking 
in the direction of Broadway, and finally found myself in a 
small, squalid square, where five streets met ; and in the cen- 
tre of this was a small, triangular space, enclosed by a wooden 
paling. There was a look of extreme wretchedness and poverty 
about the dilapidated houses, full of gaps and rents, that over- 
looked each other on both sides of the narrow, dismal streets, 
and the ragged and apparently destitute creatures, male and 
female, that lounged and glided about in the bright moon- 
light, which was in harmony with my own sad feelings and 
condition. The atmosphere was freighted with bad odors, and 
the entire aspect of both place and people would have been 
forbidding to those less desolate than myself who could have 
chosen their company and location ; but to me, the great 
avenues and the streets where the residences of the wealthy 
were, had proved a desert, without a single oasis to cheer me 
on the way. Here I at least found an outer and visible type 
of my own inner wretchedness. Want stared me in the face, 
and here it evidently reigned supreme. 

“ What’s the name of this place ?” I asked of a tall, ema- 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 47 

* 

ciated man, who, with his hands in his pockets, went shiver- 
ing past me. His haggard face, bent and shrivelled form, un- 
certain gait, battered hat, black frock-coat, buttoned but full 
of holes, and shoes through which the naked feet were plainly 
visible, made me forget my own misery and turn to him with 
pitying eye and sympathetic soul. 

“This?” said he, apparently amazed at such a question, 
“ this is the Five Points. Were you never here before ?” 

“No,” I replied ; “never.” 

“ What brought you here, then? Do you want to see any 
body ?” 

“No,” I answered ingenuously ; “I don’t know any body. 
Do you live here ?” 

It was a relief to me to speak to another human being, after 
communing so long with myself ; and I felt that I could talk 
to this man, and tell him of my position, and ask his advice. 
Being poor myself, I was more likely to find a sympathetic 
listener in this poverty-stricken, miserable and probably des- 
pised member of the community, than in any well-to-do citi- 
zen I might have met elsewhere. 

My expectation was not disappointed. The man heard of 
my being houseless and a stranger, and the chords of his heart 
were touched — for he was not one of those cold, conventional 
professors of charity who, before relieving distress, institute 
careful inquiries into the moral condition and religious beliefs 
of those who solicit their aid ; as if houselessness and starvation 
had no right to be relieved, unless accompanied by certificates 
of good character. Out upon such a miserable pretence of 
philanthropy ; such mock charity is cruel and insulting. 

Give me the man or woman of wide human sympathies and 
generous feelings, whose charity springs from a noble impulse? 
and is free from ostentation. If I want to do good, let me 
seek those who have tenanted our jails and hospitals, and those 
whose career is one of crime and misfortune, and let me put 
them in the way of making an honest living. That, indeed, 
would be charity. Who would choose to live by burglary, in 
preference to following an honest calling? No one ! Neces- 
sity is the mother of crime, as well as of invention. 

“Come with me,” said the man, (whom I began to think 


48 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


possessed a noble type of human character ;) “ I live in the Old 
Brewery over the way.” 

The building referred to, as seen in the moon-light, was a 
tall, gloomy ruin. Poverty and wretchedness evidently had 
their abode there, for many of the windows were patched and 
broken, and huge gaps in them were stuffed with rags and 
paper ; and other signs were not wanting to tell of the misery 
that lay concealed within its neglected walls. A few figures, 
like heaps of rags, crouched and lounged in front of it : and so 
hopeless did they appear, that I forgot my own destitution in 
contemplating theirs. A couple of pigs were wallowing in 
the opposite gutter, and seemed to dispute possession with the 
people. Suddenly the sound of a woman’s screams, and of 
angry voices, came from an adjoining house. 

“What’s that?” I asked, in alarm. 

“ Oh ! it’s only a drunken fray — a fight in the liquor-store,” 
replied my companion ; and we entered a dark, narrow pas- 
sage. Bude shouts of laughter rang upon my ear, and a 
glimmering light peeped through a crack in a door- way in the 
wall. 

“ Where does this lead to ?” I asked timidly. 

“ Oh ! don’t be afraid. It’s ‘ Murderers’ Alley but no- 
body’s going to hurt you.” 

I held back for a moment, but recovering my courage, I con- 
tinued groping till I came to a turning in it. 

“W T here are we now?” I inquired. 

“This is the 4 Den of Thieves,’ answered my conductor, 
who now began to ascend a creaking stair- way. 

“ I’m afraid to go up there,” said I. 

“Oh! come on ; don’t be afraid,” continued the man, “I 
live up here.” 

I followed him with suspicion, stumbling here and there on 
the broken and irregular stairs, which were lighted only by a 
faint flicker through a crevice in some opening in the brick- 
work of the wall. 

Finally we came to the head of the topmost flight of 
steps, where the atmosphere was less oppressive to the lungs 
than below, and the darkness less painful to the eyes. Pass- 
ing along a narrow, winding passage, I came to a spot where 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


49 


tlie naked beams and rafters w;ere so low that my companion 
had to stoop as he groped his way, and a wide rent in the roof, 
imperfectly patched with rubbish, admitted a Welcome stream 
of moon-light ; but the damp atmosphere, and wet and rotten 
boards, reminded me that wind and rain had equally access to 
the rude and repulsive interior. Bah ! what a place to live 
in. Disease held high carnival here, and the air was laden 
with pestilence. Was life in such an abode, I asked myself, 
worth having? The grave, in comparison, seemed hospitable 
indeed. My companion, still stooping, disappeared through a 
doorway. “ Mary, how are you ?” I heard him say, addressing 
some one within ; but there was no response. The man re- 
peated his inquiry, but still there came no reply. The room 
was in darkness, and the speaker appeared to be groping about 
in search of a match, for very soon there was a flicker, and 
then the light died out again. Another match was lighted, and 
the cell-like apartment dimly revealed its cheerless walls. A 
wick, floating in a pot of grease, when lighted, answered the 
purpose of a candle, but served only to partially relieve the 
gloom. There was no window or fireplace in the room, only a 
small iron grating near the rafters ; and cleanliness was a vir- 
tue evidently much neglected by its inmates. 

“ How are you, Mary ?” repeated the man, going to a cor- 
ner where a human form, enveloped in rags, lay on the bare 
floor. 

The rags remained motionless, and no voice responded. 

“My wife’s sick; come in,” he said, turning to me as I 
stood near the doorway, half-afraid to venture in. 

He stooped, and spoke again, and listened, and drew the 
rags aside, and then gently raised the body. He seemed to 
tremble under its unelastic weight, and releasing his hold of it, 
he ejaculated : “My God ! she’s dead!” Then, without look- 
ing upward, he fell on his knees and buried his face in the 
bosom of the corpse ; and I heard nothing for many minutes 
but dull, stifled sobs, followed by heavy breathing. 

In the presence of this great grief I felt my own vanish, and 
stood looking on meekly and in awe. 

The man at length rose, and a more pitiable object it would 
have been difficult to find. Hunger, disease and anguish could 
D 


50 


ADEIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


hardly have been more legibly depicted in the human coun- 
tenance. 

I held his sufferings sacred, and had no words to utter when 
he turned round and faced me. My human sympathies were 
too acute to prevent my sharing his sorrow, but I felt that I 
was wholly helpless to alleviate his misery, and this pained 
me. 

“ When did she die ?” I asked timidly. 

“ Die ! she died since I went out,” 'was the reply ; “ without 
a soul here to say ‘ good-by’ to, or a mouthful of food to eat. 
But she was past that. God bless her. Poverty — starvation 
killed her, poor thing ; and I shall follow her very soon.” 

“ What was the matter with her?” I inquired. 

“You ask more than I can tell you, my boy. I could get 
no doctor to come here to see her ; but she’d been in a con- 
sumption a long time, and I think it must have been inflamma- 
tion of the lungs that carried her off.” 

“ I’d better go,” said I. “ Can I do any thing for you ?” 

“ Oh ! don’t go — don’t leave me, to-night. I brought some 
bread home in my pocket, and we can share it here j” and with 
an imploring look he solicited me to remain. 

I felt that it would have been cruel to refuse, so I agreed to 
share my companion’s misery. I saw him endeavor to eat some 
of the bread, which he placed on a wooden bench for our mu- 
tual use ; but he failed in the attempt, and without saying a 
word, he lay down on the floor not far from the corpse, and 
there remained apparently exhausted. Having eaten some of 
the bread, and drank some water which I found in a jug in the 
room, I followed his example — overcome by sleep and fatigue, 
and utterly unable to bear up any longer. Just then the flick- 
ering light expired, and impenetrable darkness succeeded. 

When I awoke, early on the next morning, I saw by the fee- 
ble light which found its way into tne room through the open 
door-way, that my companion of the previous evening had 
moved into the corner where the corpse lay ; and rising, I 
walked to the spot and bent down to listen, but no sound ot 
breathing met my ear. The conviction that the man was dead 
as well as the woman, instantly took possession of me, and I 
shrank back. There he was, holding his dead wife in his rigid 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


51 


embrace. The one body felt to my touch as cold and stiff as 
the other ; and both were equally lifeless. Here then, was death, 
locked in the arms of death, a solemn spectacle for mortal eye. 
Here was the last melancholy act of the great drama, which 
these two people had been struggling to perform since the 
dawn of their existence ; here was the Omega of a marriage, 
whose Alpha had perhaps been full of joy and promise. I sick- 
ened at the sight — for death is not always lovely to behold — 
and with a feeling of panic rushed from the room. 


\ 


CHAPTER VII. 

I FOLLOW THE FASHION, AND GO TO EUROPE. 

With a feeling of dread and excitement, I hurried along the 
narrow passages and down the intricate stairway of the Old 
Brewery, till I came to the street. Then I began to breathe 
freely ; but the melancholy spectacle from which I had just re- 
treated, haunted me like a terrible dream. Death locked in 
the arms of death ! I shuddered at the thought. 

The neighborhood was already astir ; and by the gray of the 
sky and the slanting rays of the sun, I judged it to be about 
six o’clock. I stood for a few moments irresolute as to what I 
should do next, fearing that if I divulged my knowledge of the 
deaths I should get into fresh trouble. The latter feeling pre- 
vailed, and I walked away with a sense of relief at leaving be- 
hind me a spot, the features of which had by this time become 
repulsive to me. 

I had lost hope of doing any good for myself in New- York, 
and in my desolation I longed to flee away. Therefore the de- 
sire to go to sea — my only refuge — again took possession of me, 
and I directed my footsteps towards the forest of masts that 
towered skyward from the wooden piers of the East River. I 
knew that in seeking a life on the ocean wave I was courting 
hardship, and voluntarily making myself a galley-slave. But 
ashore the prospect appeared little better than afloat ; and the 


52 


ADKIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


evils with which I had already to contend, left me in little fear 
of those others to which in my extremity I might fly. Youth 
has every where to suffer ; and the life of boys up to eighteen 
is one of perpetual humiliation. It seemed to me that there 
was no way of escaping the martyrdom common to my age, sex 
and poverty, and whether I suffered a little more or less than 
my fellows, after I had suffered so much already, was a matter 
of little consequence to me — and certainly of none whatever to 
the world. 

Therefore see me a successful candidate for the floggings 
which every boy who goes to sea as a sailor inevitably gets. 
The ship-master, who responded to my appeal by consenting 
to take me, was a hard, gutta-percha-colored man, with a face 
ploughed with wrinkles that ran like rivers across a continent. 
He had a voice as hoarse as the tones usually heard through a 
speaking-trumpet, and an eye remarkably like what I imagined 
a vulture’s to be. The lower part of one of his checks was 
thrown somewhat out of shape by what I discovered to be an 
enormous plug of tobacco ; and from his stern, distorted mouth 
there rained a shower of tobacco-juice. He was six feet high, 
but excessively slop-built, gaunt, awkward and stooping. He 
had feet considerably more than a foot long, and nearly half as 
broad — which he doubtless found a capital steadying apparatus 
in a gale of wind ; but nature, which had been so lavish of her 
abundance to him in this respect, as if in a sudden fit of econ- 
omy, had blessed him only with a very small head, and a fore- 
head so low that when he laughed — and he did laugh some- 
times like a hyena, with the scream of a parrot as an accom- 
paniment — he could hardly be said to have any forehead what- 
ever. He had no perceptible throat, but a good deal of black 
hair, which projected like a bowsprit between the sharp points 
of a collar so open in front that it seemed to have been made 
to reach from ear to ear only. His teeth were hollowed out, and 
broken here and there like rocks, and of a bumt-sienna color ; 
and his nose was deeply indented across the bridge, thus greatly 
disfiguring a countenance which had never any pretensions to 
beauty. He was a Kentuckian by birth, and unfortunately 
addicted to strong language as well as strong waters — his oaths 
extending to indefinite length, and his potations to an equally 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


53 


indefinite quantity. When he raised his voice, in command, 
he spoke with the force of a sledge-hammer on an anvil ; and 
if he observed the slightest hesitation or incompetency in car- 
rying his orders into execution, he followed them up by throw- 
ing belaying-pins or other harmless missiles, at the objects of 
his virtuous indignation. His garments hung about him with 
an appearance of perfect looseness ; and his striped pantaloons 
were the envy of the negro cook, Sambo, who rejoiced in the 
title of “ doctor,” and held perpetual carnival in the galley. A 
great man on his own deck, like all sea-captains, was Captain 
Whittlestick of the barque “ Skimmer of the Seas,” bound for 
Liverpool with passengers and cargo. 

During the voyage I was kicked and cuffed unmercifully ; but 
I endured it heroically, for it was part of my creed never to say 
die. Nevertheless when the ship reached port, I was glad to 
leave her and go in search of better fortune ashore. 

It was a dark November day when I landed. The atmos- 
phere was foggy, and the streets smoky, muddy, and full of 
noise, bustle, sailors, orange-girls, and Irish emigrants. 
When I came to the Clarence Dock gate, I saw a crowd of 
these last — the men clad in damp ragged frieze, damaged hats, 
perforated stockings, knee-breeches and brogans, and all 
armed with the invariable shillaly supporting a bundle across 
the shoulder; while the women, with tanned and freckled 
faces, were bonnetless and playful. They had just arrived by 
an Irish steamer, on the deck of which they had spent the 
night, in company with numerous sheep, pigs, horses, and 
horned cattle. 

Loaded wagons and bawling carters moved about in seem- 
ingly inextricable confusion ; stray cattle ran to and fro, and 
were as rapidly pursued and overtaken by gangs of drovers ; 
dense volumes of smoke ascended from half-a-dozen steamers 
in the dock; bells were ringing for the outward-bound to get 
aboard ; hackney-cars threaded their way in all directions ; and 
passengers and badged porters rushed about wildly. 

Jingling lorrys, laden with produce from all parts of the 
globe, moved past me up and down the Waterloo Road. For 
miles, north and south of me, extended the great docks of the 
great sea-gate of England. Into these cotton poured from the 


51 


ADEIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


wide valley of the Mississippi, the flowery shores of the Ama- 
zon, the irrigated soil of Egypt, the burning plains of Hin- 
dostan ; wool from thirty different countries scattered round 
the temperate zones of the earth ; hides from the wide tracts of 
South- America, and the high lands of India ; provisions from 
the pastures of Ohio ; grain from the banks of the St. Law- 
rence, the De^ware, the Loire, the Elbe, the Vistula, the 
Danube, and the Don ; oil from the olive-woods of Italy, the 
palm -groves of Africa, the plains of Belgium, the floating ice 
of Newfoundland, and the depths of the Arctic seas ; copper 
and silver ore to be smelted with the coal of St. Helen’s, from 
Mexico, Chili and Peru ; coffee from Ceylon and Costa Bica ; 
sugar from Georgia, the Carolinas, Mauritius, and the East and 
West Indies ; rice from Alabama and Patna; jute from Ben- 
gal ; mahogany from Honduras ; rosewood from Brazil ; guano 
from Peru ; spices from the Malaccas ; tobacco from Mary- 
land ; timber from the forests of New Brunswick and Canada ; 
and a thousand other things from nearly as many different 
places. 

As I advanced, huge boards and walls covered with flaming 
red and yellow placards, and foot-long letters, met my view. 
East-sailing vessels seemed to be departing to all parts of the 
world, at all times ; and the array of these was embarrassing 
if not bewildering. Was it wonderful that the first of these 
walls I came to seemed a kind of Pisgah from whence I gained a 
gratuitous sight of the whole w r orld ? I gazed from the pla- 
cards to the ships, and forgetting the hardships I had suffered 
on my voyage across, longed to take the wings of another ves- 
sel to another clime. I read a romance in each of those wan- 
dering palaces of oak and iron, wdiich every time they crossed 
the world, bore a crowd of men “precious as Caesar and his 
fortunes” to those near him. How inviting I thought those 
steamers, with their polished decks and twilight cabins ; and 
the sun-light dimpling the binnacle, and dancing merrily on 
the water, I can w r ell remember. 

I was without a dollar, a friend, or a home — but not without 
hope ; and I walked until I was weary and foot-sore. Then 
with the approach of night my spirits drooped. 

It was a little past eight o’clock when I found myself in a 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


55 


narrow, smoky street, half lost and hidden puzzle-like in a lab- 
yrinth of other equally dirty, narrow, and irregular thorough- 
fares, all filled alike with the same suffocating atmosphere. It 
was not far from the Nelson Dock. The inscription, “Good 
Dry Lodgings,” rudely painted on a piece of board hanging by 
a cord from a nail, over a deep cellar made accessible by 
a steep flight of muddy and broken steps, caught my wander- 
ing eye. I was enabled to read it by a faint glimmer of light, 
which shone down upon it from a thin dip-candle burning near 
the window of the first floor above. I had been looking about 
me for a lodging for hours, so I lingered for a moment in front 
of this promised asylum, and gazed down the steep steps lead- 
ing from the street to the dingy hive below, passing in their 
downward flight a window patched up with pieces of newspa- 
per, and stuffed with rags and other substances equally op- 
posed to the admission of day-light — if indeed the murkiness 
which pervaded that locality during any one of the twenty- 
four hours could be justly so called. I was still looking, in the 
endeavor to see into the cellar through the half-open door, 
when the figure of a man without a coat advanced and opened 
the door wide. 

“ Is it a lodgin’ you want, my boy ?” he asked in a true Tip- 
perary key. It was the oasis in the wilderness — the first words 
that had been addressed to me since my arrival. 

All the money I had was a British shilling and a few cent 
pieces, so it behooved me to practise economy; and the cellar 
was the kind of hotel best suited to my pocket, wretched as it 
evidently was. 

I answered the question in the affirmative. 

“ Och then, my jewil, it’s glad I’ll be to have you ; come 
down.” 

I accepted the invitation. 

“ Faith, I’m the model lodgin’-house-keeper, and it’s myself 
can make you as comfortable as any man in Liverpool — and 
only charge ye fourpence a night for that same.” 

I found myself in the cellar, with firelight gleaming through 
the darkness. 

“Threepence to him ; shure he’s only a boy,” put in a 
weather-beaten woman who sat on something invisible — which 


56 


ADKIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


afterwards turned out to be a lump of coal, near the fire- 
smoking a short black pipe — and who doubtless thought, judg- 
ing by the space I would occupy, that a fourth less than the 
price charged for an adult would be only a fair deduction. Then 
turning to me, kindly, she asked : “Won’t threepence do ye 
better than fourpence?” 

“ It will suit my pocket just as well,” I replied. 

“Then threepence is all you’ll have to pay,” said the man ; 
“ but is it alone you are entirely ?” — and he eyed me with cur- 
iosity. 

“ Entirely.” 

“ Shure it’s an English boy yon are?” remarked the woman 
inquiringly ; and as she spoke, she withdrew from her mouth 
the short black pipe she had been smoking, and deposited it 
on a sort of mantel-piece jutting from the wall, above the hob- 
less fire-place. 

“You’ve guessed wrong this time,” said I; “I’m a Yan- 
kee.” 

“Arrah! now are you, indade? And is it from Ameriky 
you come ?” 

I nodded in the affirmative. 

“ Faith, then you’re the whitest Yankee I’ve seen yet. Shure 
I thought they were all black in Ameriky.” 

I forgave her ignorance, and enlightened her to the con- 
trary. 

“ And how old might you be ?” 

“ Fourteen.” 

“ Bedad it’s a fine boy of his age he is,” remarked the man • 
which was acquiesced in by a nod from the woman, who still 
sat on the lump of coal with her face resting on her hand, and 
her elbow doing exactly the same on her knee. 

Since my entrance I had been sitting, in company with the 
proprietor, at one end of a small narrow block of wood, sup- 
ported by a variety of legs, which, not being of a uniform length, 
subjected the seat they supported to sudden lurches. As if by 
instinct, the man jumped up on hearing the sound of voices 
outside, thus causing the stool or form, or whatever else it 
might be called, to lose its equilibrium, and perform an eccen- 
tric movement which threw me with a slide to the floor. 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


57 


“Och, there you are,” cried the woman in high glee, as 
she saw me go ; “ it’s the legs of that stool that are be- 
witched.” 

A group consisting of three bonnetless women — one of 
whom carried a child slung on her back — and four men, all 
wearing an unmistakably Irish aspect, here entered the dimly- 
lighted apartment. 

“ Faith, an it’s glad to see ye we are,” said the wife of the 
model lodging-house-keeper ; and she rose and offered her 
seat to one of her countrywomen. 

“ There’s ne’er a candle here, Mike,” said she, as she 
searched in one corner of the cellar. 

‘ 4 It’s myself that has them,” responded her husband; and 
he produced one of the thinnest of tallow candles from an ex- 
cavation in the wall, near the ceiling — which latter spanned 
the vault-like apartment at an elevation of five feet from the 
brick floor, carpeted with a long accumulation of mud. 

This was lighted ; and having been wedged into a turnip-like 
candle-stick, was allowed to blaze in undisturbed solemnity on 
the mantel-piece, where lay the before-mentioned pipe of high 
color. The room was now in a state of comparative illumina- 
tion. All within gathered round the fire, save myself ; and I, 
already tired and exhausted, asked for my bed, and lay down 
on a pallet of straw. 

I was at rest ; and before mid-night the bodies of the four 
men, the three women, the child, and the model lodging-house- 
keeper and his beloved spouse, lay beside me — covering the 
entire floor. And thus we passed the night. Within, dark- 
ness, misery, and a poisoned atmosphere ; without, the storm 
howled wildly through the streets. By-and-by the rain de- 
scended as if blown out of the clouds ; and the bleak element 
was heard fitfully sighing in courts and alleys, and whistling 
plaintive tunes down long chimneys. It was solemn, yea, fear- 
ful to listen to. On sped the hours of darkness ; and the rain, 
which had drifted before the wind, and even found its way to 
where I lay, at length subsided. 

The breeze, which held high carnival above, did not descend 
to the cellar. I could hear a feeble sob now and again in the 
chimney — but the latter was so long and so intricate in its 


58 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


windings through the tall narrow house, that the wind was 
choked in its struggle to penetrate it, and only succeeded in 
sweeping down the soot. Thus passed the night, which brought 
morning and misery to me. 




CHAPTER VIII. 

A HARD ROAD TO TRAVEL. 

Daybreak cast its sickly light, and revealed the cold gray 
sky, with dark clouds hurrying over the stormy scene ; while 
slates and chimney-pots, dislodged from many a roof, lay in 
fragments about the streets. The river Mersey was swollen 
and troubled, and shrill was the voice of the gale as it sang 
through the naked rigging of the ships at anchor. 

Hungry and penniless, I went out upon the tide of life. I 
was disheartened, objectless, forlorn; and my previous forti- 
tude seemed to have deserted me. What charm had the world 
for me ? — I asked myself. Civilization had conferred no boon 
upon me, and fortune had persecuted me from my birth. I 
wept over my own utter desolation, and wished that I had been 
born a savage, or died in my cradle. Gravely reflecting, with 
Famine gnawing at my vitals, and my heart aching with grief, 
I walked through the here busy and there tranquil streets of 
the great seaport of England, till I was weary and foot-sore. 
Ah ! well I remember that bitter sense of despondency, which, 
young as I was, stole over me in that foreign land, as the day 
advanced. 

Evening began to drape the town with shadows, and crowds 
of men engaged in commerce moved homewards — many to- 
wards the piers and landing-stage to catch the next steamer for 
Birkenhead, Woodside, New Brighton or Seacombe, on the op- 
posite and Cheshire side of the river, where steamers were 
crossing and re-crossing like arrows darting from both sides of 
the Mersey. The landing-stage, which swung below St. 
George’s pier-head — like a floating battery seen through a 
magnifying lens — was crowded with a human throng ; and 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


59 


tempted by curiosity, I crossed one of tbe bridges leading to 
it, and found myself a unit among the multitude, with no soul 
to commune with save my own among that living tide. For 
all»save myself there seemed to be some haven of restand 
safety — some retreat from the inhospitable sea of life. I was 
as much alone in that busy careless crowd, as is the Sphinx in 
the desert ; and in my solitude I sat down on one of the public 
benches. But I had not been long there, when I was suddenly 
disturbed by a tap from the stick of a policeman, who, in a gruff 
voice, and with a threatening manner, said: “Come, cornel 
move on there.” Somewhat startled, I hurried in silence be- 
fore the cruel eyes and formidable staff of the pursuing officer 
of justice, and speedily regained the pier. 

Twilight crept slowly on, and so did I. Faint with hunger 
and fatigue, I passed along the Prince’s Dock Quay ; and 
tempted by some Indian-corn which had leaked out of one of a 
pile of sacks, I stooped to pick up a few grains, when I was 
ruthlessly collared, and chastised with a heavy switch by the 
watchman in charge, who afterwards handed me over to the 
police stationed at the nearest gate, who in their turn convey- 
ed me, in company with two other boys younger than myself, 
to the nearest bridewell, and I was thrust into a cold damp 
cell, and they with me. Inured to the hardships of poverty, 
and the punishments which are the certain reward of habitual 
crime, these boys had become hardened, callous, and reckless 
of consequences ; and regarding me as a novice in theft, they 
gave me nothing but their jeers and contempt. I found them, 
therefore, but sorry companions ; for even my stifled sobs were 
met with epithets of derision. 

With night, the wind that had lulled recovered its strength, 
and dark and wild floated the heavy drapery of clouds through 
the celestial waste — while the sultana of the heavens shone out 
at intervals with a pale, tremulous light ; and the stars, faint 
and small, seemed to flicker in the distance. But since my 
entry into the cell, the sky had been hidden from my view ; 
and the darkness would have been complete, but for the un- 
certain light which struggled through a wire grating in the 
door. Yet I could still hear the sighing, wailing, panting 
sound of the many-tongued breeze, which went tearing its way 


60 


ADELFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


through and over the chimney-stacks and streets and crowded 
alleys of Liverpool, and whistling through the rigging of 
the ships at anchor, with the same vehemence as on the pre- 
ceding night. 

As the hours sped on, the key was more than once turned 
in the lock of the cell-door, and other prisoners were admitted. 
For me there was no such balm as sleep, for my wretched com- 
panions made the night hideous with their cries and impreca- 
tions. The Scriptural proverb, “There is no peace for the 
wicked,” here seemed to have a practical illustration. Mere 
imprisonment I could have endured cheerfully, had I been 
alone ; and even in that miserable dungeon, I could have 
found comfort and solace within my own soul ; but the associ- 
ations of my incarceration wounded my spirit, and made me 
sad indeed. In that sickening atmosphere of physical and 
moral corruption, I suffered torture ; but alas ! there was no 
retreat, and I had either to endure or to die. I could find no 
sympathy in those, who, from childhood, had been steeped in 
the dregs of wickedness, and nurtured in the bed of poverty — 
the great source of all human evil and degradation. 

Morning cast a feeble ray through the wire-screened window 
of the cell ; and at eight o’clock, after being served with a 
scanty breakfast of bread and water, the prisoners were order- 
ed out, handcuffed, and marched through the streets, in dou- 
ble column, to the head police-office near the Exchange, under 
the escort of policemen. 

Notwithstanding that I considered myself innocent of having 
committed any crime, I was ashamed of my position ; and 
with lowered head and downcast eyes, shrank from the gaze of 
passers-by. For the first time in my life I felt really degraded, 
and wished that the houses would fall down and bury me in 
their ruins. 

The stipendiary magistrate took his seat in court at ten 
o’clock, and one by one the prisoners were brought up from 
the cells below and placed at the bar. My turn came at last ; 
and faint and trembling I was led to judgment. The charge 
was, stealing Indian-corn. 

“He was caught in the act, your worship,” said the police- 
man who had taken me into custody. 


ADBIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


61 


“ X seed that lad, your worship, loitering on the landing- 
stage yesterday afternoon,” said another officer of justice; 
and looking up, I saw the same savage countenance which had 
scowled at me before. 

“ These boys,” said the magistrate, “are becoming quite t 
pest, and I shall make an example of every one that is brought 
before me. Therefore, Washington Edmonds, I order you tc 
be imprisoned in the House of Correction for the term of seven 
days, and there to be twice privately whipped.” 

Upon hearing this I burst into tears, feeling myself the vic- 
tim of a cruel and undeserved punishment ; but the next mo- 
ment I was pushed out of the dock, into the lobby, and re-con- 
ducted at a later hour to the van, which lodged me in Kirkdale 
jail. 

I will not give the painful details of my prison-life, but pass 
on to the day of my release, when I again found myself a deso- 
late wanderer on the streets of Liverpool. My great anxiety 
now was to procure employment — for without this, I clearly 
saw that there was no escaping either a jail or a poor-house. I 
therefore made application at several shops for a place as errand- 
boy, but failed in my object. Again I thought of going to sea ; 
and walked along the line of docks, inquiring here and there as 
I went, for a ship that would take me. But my efforts were 
without success. Then my thoughts reverted to the “Skim- 
mer of the Seas,” and Captain Whittlestick. If I could do no 
better, I would go to the latter and entreat him to take me 
with him on the return voyage. 

Pursuing my way southward, I came to a broad and extensive 
quay, covered with logs of timber, spars, and piles of deals. 
A sign told me that this was the Brunswick Dock ; and seeing 
a crowd of men hopping over the logs, and circulating among 
the deals, I approached, and found that it was a timber sale by 
auction. Very soon, afterwards, the whole of these — and I 
with them — entered a shed, where a long table was spread with 
what seemed to me a magnificent dinner. Every body com- 
menced eating without ceremony ; and I thought that I could 
not do a more sensible thing than join the party, although I 
had just suffered seven days’ imprisonment for picking up from 
the ground a handful of spilt corn. Very soon the champagne 


62 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


began to flow, and the bottled stout to foam ; and finding 
glasses conveniently at hand, I helped myself sans ceremonie 
to both — although I had never tasted either before in my life. 
I thought the change from prison fare rather agreeable, and 
that my luck was decidedly improving. I did not know at the 
time that these refreshments were provided by the auctioneer, 
for the buyers attending the sale, but had an intuitive belief 
that those who partook would have nothing to pay. In the 
midst of my enjoyment of the good things provided, a man 
abruptly pulled me from the table by my jacket-collar, and 
hurried me from the shed, with the parting exclamation : “Let 
me catch you here again!” I was decidedly disconcerted by 
this incident, but was glad it was no worse; and notwithstand- 
ing the man’s expressed desire to let him catch me there again, 
I resolved if possible not to give him the chance. % 

I had not walked far when I began to feel the effects of my 
unaccustomed meal, in a degree of physical torpidity and 
mental obfuscation I had never before experienced. Moreover, 
I had been kept awake by my fellow-prisoners during the 
greater part of each night of my imprisonment, and I was 
weary. Yielding therefore to inclination, I crept into a se- 
cluded nook formed by several piles of spruce battens ; and 
lying down there at sun-set awoke not till sun-rise on the next 
day. 


CHAPTER IX. 

I DEFY THE MUTINEERS. 

Having passed the night in the manner described, I saun- 
tered northward, till I came to the dock where the “ Skimmer 
of the Seas” lay berthed when I left her. To my joy, she w^as 
still there. The captain had not yet come down to the ship, 
but I waited for his appearance, and then told him my wish to 
return on board. It was enough for me that he consented. A 
few days afterwards, the vessel, wdth four hundred passengers 
and a full cargo, glided into the Mersey, and anchored to await 
a fair wind. It came ; round flew the windlass ; the anchor 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


C3 


was weighed, and away she sped before a ten-knot breeze. 
The long shores and tall steeples of Liverpool receded from the 
view, and I for one gave a joyous welcome to the sea. 

We had been twenty-eight days out, during the last week of 
which we encountered rough, foggy weather, that prevented 
any observations from being taken, and forced us to sail by 
dead reckoning. The captain was uncertain about the exact- 
ness of his calculations of the ship's latitude and longitude, but 
still kept on a good spread of canvas, trusting to the look-out 
and his own luck, for the safety of the vessel. 

It was near midnight, and very dark and squally, and the 
ship was laboring in a heavy sea. The breeze whistled through 
the shrouds, and impelled her swiftly onward through the 
foaming element; while the atmosphere was cold and hazy, 
and not a star was to be seen. Suddenly the fore-watch cried 
out, “Ship’s light ahead, Sir;” and the mate turned to the 
helmsman, “Luff, luff, two points,” and sent a man aloft to 
observe its course. 

“ It looks like land ahead,” was the report of the latter, 
when he descended. 

The captain had by this time reached the deck, and shouted, 
“Hard on the wheel!” to which the helmsman uttered, in 
sonorous distinctness, the stereotyped reply, “Ay, ay, Sir.” 
The ship suddenly came about, and filled on the other tack, 
when it was discovered that she was already among the 
breakers. 

“ All hands brace the after-yards,” yelled Whittlestick. 
“ She’ll go off,” he added to the officer of the watch, as he saw 
the order promptly executed, its object being to allow her to 
pull off-shore gradually. The head-yards were steered as long 
as possible, to prevent her paying off too fast ; the after-sails 
were kept up, and then the spanker was set; but directly af- 
terwards she filled away, and fell broadside on the rocks. She 
struck very easy on her larboard side, but quickly began to 
throb heavily. The whole of the after-sail was, however, kept 
on, with a view to letting her haul off, if the tide made ; but it 
happened to be then about high water, and the attempt failed. 
The ship was wrecked. The sails were now clewed up ; but 
the crew became mutinous, and refused to furl them. 


64 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


From the time of her first striking, the excitement among the 
passengers was intense, and the cries of terror-striken women 
rose above the roar of the breakers, the chorus of the seamen, 
and the hoarse commands of the ship’s officers. Every one 
felt that his life was in danger, and many gave way to panic, 
and rushed wildly to-and-fro ; -wh le some attempted to jump 
overboard, but were restrained by their less frantic fellows. 

The light which had been seen was that of a light-house, on 
the Newfoundland coast, but it was now no longer visible, 
being hidden by an intervening headland, or rocky cliff. 

The darkness added to the confusion, and the vessel soon 
began to fill and break up, while the surging roar of the ocean, 
and the voices of those on board blended in a melancholy wail, 
and the angry billows broke over the fated ship, and then 
leapt shoreward into foam, sporting as it were with our mis- 
ery. Morning broke ; alas ! how wild, how bleak ! There lay 
the rock-bound coast, rugged and high, snow-capped and deso- 
late, between which and the wreck, the heavy waves dashed 
loudly, lashing in their frenzy the sea- worn barrier, wallowing 
in their wrath, and then receding with a gurgling, rushing 
sound, while all around was foaming. 

The larboard quarter-boat was lowered, with a view to pass- 
ing a line to the beach ; but the heavy wind smote so wildly, 
as if urging the ocean to vent its wrath still more, that the 
boat was caught up, and dashed to pieces on the rocks. Four 
boats more remained on board ; so there was even yet a hope 
of rescue, although four hundred and fifty hearts palpitated on 
her decks, as she lay broadside on in the surf. 

The coast near us seemed unapproachable by land, and the 
light-house lay at a distance of three or four miles. There ap- 
peared to be no help for those on board, but their own un- 
wearied exertions. 

The starboard quarter-boat was next lowered, with some 
line coiled into her, and the chief mate on board. A line was 
at the same time made fast to it from the ship ; but the under- 
tow was running so strong that it narrowly escaped destruction, 
and was quickly hauled back again. Finally, however, the 
same officer, with four of the crew, and five passengers, suc- 
ceeded in getting ashore ; but then the lamentable discovery 
was made, that they were unable to return. 


ADEIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


65 


The consternation on board increased, and the ship was fast 
breaking np. Men, women, and children shouted, and cried, 
and groaned, and prayed, and embraced each other in dismay, 
and the hard-fixed look of despair was visible among many. 
Some had already madly flung themselves overboard, as if anx- 
ious to anticipate their doom, and others, among them women, 
with infants in their arms, in the vain hope of reaching the shore 
alive, instead of which they only stained the breakers with 
their blood. Several I saw looking sadly and moodily over the 
bulwarks, with a blank stare, as if trying to read their fate in 
the troubled waters. Some smiled grimly, with clenched hands 
and set teeth ; others sobbed hysterically ; and only a few dis- 
played that calmness in the face of death, which is the best 
possession of the soldier on the field of battle. 

The wind lulled as the day waned, but a heavy sea still came 
rolling inshore, and there was still no promise of those who 
had gone ashore being enabled to return to the wreck. By 
this time all order and discipline were at an end, and, to add to 
the horrors of our situation, the mutinous crew broke into the 
spirit-room, and drank to intoxication. They then began to 
plunder the passengers, and ransack the cabin, and the clamor 
which arose I shall never forget. Sounds of discord and strife 
succeeded to groans of anguish and piteous petitions to Heaven, 
and the last hours of the many were devoted to riot and tumult 
by the few, and that ship became a pandemonium. 

The recollection of that terrible scene is as vivid in my mind 
now as it ever was, and ever will continue to be, till death and 
I claim companionship in dust. The crew, maddened by drink 
and laden with booty, had no sooner secured their spoils than 
they commenced quarrelling among themselves. The captain 
at this juncture interfered, when one of the men drew a knife 
on him, at the same time uttering a fearful threat. - “Drop 
that !” said the other, advancing towards him in an attitude of 
defence. The fellow for the moment desisted, but turning on 
one side, and stooping, he took up two belaying-pins, and 
threw them at him. He then advanced, with the knife grasped 
in his hand. The captain upon this drew a pocket-pistol, of 
which he had three on his person, and fired at his assailant. 
But the weapon snapped -without exploding, and at that 


66 


ADEIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


moment the man with the knife made a rush at his intended 
victim, who skillfully evaded him, and then firing another 
pistol, shot him on the spot, just as he wus in the act of mak- 
ing a thrust with the steel, and he made an involuntary spring 
into the air, and fell back lifeless, with the knife still tightly 
grasped in his hand. 

The rest of the crew now gathered round the captain threat- 
eningly, and one of them struck him with a short flat shovel, 
taken from the galley, while another attacked him with a grid- 
iron, which broke in the encounter. In the midst of this, the 
third pistol missed fire, and he was helpless to defend himself. 
The ruffians then rushed upon and beat him with belaying- 
pins, and such like, and kicked him without mercy. 

At this moment, without any other thought than that oi 
defending a fallen man against the murderous assault of the 
mutineers, I forced my way through the noisy crowd, and, 
throwing myself across the prostrate body, exclaimed: “ There! 
you have killed the captain, now kill me. ” 

I was dauntless, and my courage partially disarmed them ; 
and, lawless and cruel though they were, they evidently admir- 
ed my pluck. Some of them, however, pointed their pistols, 
which they had obtained from the arm-chest, but none of them 
exploded, although snapped several times, a circumstance due 
to their having been a long time loaded ; while a few still ven- 
ted their wrath in kicks, and an occasional shower of missiles. 
Regardless of the danger to which I exposed myself, however, 

I still guarded the body of the unfortunate captain, and bravely 
bore the brunt of my situation. 

A diversion now occurred, 'which withdrew the attention of 
the mutineers to themselves ; for a quarrel arose among them 
respecting the division of the spoils. They quickly drew their 
knives, and the fight soon became deadly and exciting. It was 
a hand-to -hand combat, in which bloodshed and death were 
terribly rife. The scene became one of drunken tumult and 
strife, and slaughtered bodies lay strewn about the decks. 
Meanwhile, I had dragged the object of my care to a spot 
near the cabin gangway, for shelter from the rushing masses of 
people. 

Right again spread her sombre mantle, and the scene of the 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


67 


fierce and sanguinary contest was hushed to comparative repose. 
Not more than fifty of the original number now survived. The 
rest had been swept off the wreck, or drowned in their efforts 
to reach the shore, or fallen victims to cold, hunger, and acci- 
dent, or been killed in the struggle with the mutineers. Of the 
crew only eleven remained alive after the struggle ended, and 
these immediately took possession of their plunder, and em- 
barked in the last of the boats, in which they put off for the 
shore ; but one sweep of revengeful waters dashed it to pieces 
on the rocks, and the ruffians perished with it. 

The third morning after the wreck dawned, and meanwhile 
the weather had been intensely cold, and the wind continued 
high — whistling loudly through the vessel’s broken timbers, as 
she lay a fragment of her former self in the boiling surf, while 
a mantle of newly-fallen snow gave an appearance of Arctic 
grandeur to the scene. The boat in which the chief mate and 
others went ashore had disappeared from the beach, having 
probably been carried away by the tide, and we could see 
nothing of those who had landed. But in their stead the 
rude and solitary shore, which would otherwise have been sub- 
lime in its desolation, presented only too many painful eviden- 
ces of the disaster. Beyond the surf-line it was fringed with 
mangled bodies, among which the hungry seals were not idle, 
and remnants of bales, boxes, and other cargo. 

The fore-part of the ship, as far as the after-cabin and quar- 
ter-deck, had been entirely carried away, and the remaining 
portion of the hull, it was evident, would soon share the fate 
of the rest. 

Notwithstanding the vicinity of the light-house, it was not 
till now that the first signs of assistance appeared to us from the 
shore ; and I saw several men, who afterwards proved to be 
wreckers, hungrily seeking what they might devour, observing 
our position on the beach. A thrill of joy ran through my 
veins, and I rushed with as much speed as my starving body 
and the difficulties of the way would permit, to the berth in 
which the still surviving captain lay, and informed him of the 
presence of the people on the coast ; but the delirium under 
which he had labored, since beaten by the mutineers, 
prevented his making any manifestation of feeling on the oc- 


68 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


casion. He appeared unable to comprehend what I said, and 
merely muttered a few incoherent words. 

The berth alluded to was an upper one, situated in a small 
cabin astern, and in that part of the wreck highest out of water, 
but even there more than three feet of water washed with a 
plashing sound over the floor. In the top berths of the two 
next state-rooms, three women and an infant child were hud- 
dled, and here the water rose to the depth of about four feet, 
and ebbed and flowed through the open sides of the wreck 
with every roll of the billows. These were the only women 
among the survivors ; the rest had perished by exposure, star- 
vation, and drowning. And not more than twenty in all now 
remained on board alive. Of this small number few indeed 
gave promise of seeing the light of another day. 

I returned to the deck, and watched anxiously the move- 
ments of the men ashore, and other wistful and glassy eyes 
were fixed in the same direction. Imagine the sense of de- 
spair, the bitter heart-sickness which took possession of us, as 
we saw the men retrace their steps, without being able to ren- 
der us the succor for which we yearned ! One of the surviving 
women, the others were fast sinking, after hearing the report 
that there were living men to be seen on the beach, waded 
arm -pit deep through the water, to reach the tom and icy deck, 
and there shouted wildly amidst the whistling winds and surg- 
ing roar of the surf ; shrieked in the agony of despair for help, 
seeming to startle the very elements with her bitter cry of an- 
guish — her wild, wild wail, while she waved a shred-like signal 
of distress. But still no rescuing hand came nigh, no sign of 
deliverance appeared. 

After this disappointment, a blank look of resignation and 
utter hopelessness took possession of nearly all, and one man 
tottered into an opening in the wreck, and was drowned. 
Death began to give the finishing stroke to their misery. The 
day waned, and the wind increased to a heavy gale. The 
store-room had been carried away, and no provisions, beyond 
a very scanty supply of raw bacon and biscuits, had been ac- 
cessible to us during the two previous days. There was no 
fresh water ; but fortunately a bin of lemonade in the after- 
cabin was approachable, although not without plunging through 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


69 


five feet of brine. Dead bodies floated about inside the wreck, 
and lay in frozen groups on the quarter-deck, not yet washed 
away. The storm grew louder as the darkness deepened, while 
the undying roar of the breakers sounded more awful to our 
ears than on any preceding night. It was like listening to our 
death-knell, which was at the same time the requiem of those 
who had gone before. 

It was not until the morning of the second day following 
this, that men reappeared on the beach, and that a huge, 
rudely-constructed life-car — something like what an antedilu- 
vian bathing machine might be imagined to have been, if in- 
deed such a feature could be supposed to have been associated 
with the lavatory operations of our ancestors before the tradi- 
tional flood — was forced through the surf towards the wreck. I 
welcomed the sight of it with a shout of joy. 

The land, bleak and arid, was still clothed in a garb of snow ; 
and the cliffs reared their frosted and rocky heads high along 
the coast. The crested waves still decked out the distance 
seaward, and lashed with fury the defying shore, which seemed 
to say to the great deep : “Thus far shall thou go, but no fur- 
ther.” And there the spent waters eddied and foamed among 
the rocky shallows, till they were gathered again into the em- 
brace of the parent tide, “dark heaving, boundless, endless, 
and sublime.” 

At last the ruins of the once proud “Skimmer of the Seas” 
were reached, and the wreckers soon climbed their way to the 
broken stern of the vessel, the only part now remaining. 
Here I met them, for I was the only one on board capable oi 
movement. 

“ Any one but you here ?” was the first question asked. 

“Yes ; the captain and two ladies and a child,” I answered. 
“ They’re in the cabin.” 

“ Nobody else ?” 

“No; all the others are dead.” 

I conducted one of the men to where the latter lay, emaci- 
ated, stiff, and nearly frozen, in the only berth above water be- 
sides the captain’s. The child, cold, wan, and ghastly, but 
alive, still clung to the parent breast. Alas ! its father had 
been murdered on board, and its mother had "Wailed, and wept, 


70 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


and yearned, and prayed for its rescue during all the long 
weary days which had elapsed since the wreck ; and when, as 
we have seen, she waved her signal from the deck, and ap- 
pealed so wildly for help when the wreckers first appeared — 
she did so more for her child’s sake than her own. But nature 
was exhausted now, and she was too feeble to speak above a 
whisper. Her companion — a sweet, blue-eyed girl about 
eighteen — was little better. To the wants of these I had at- 
tended with all the zeal of which I was capable, and the last 
words of the latter were : “Don’t leave us; save me.” 

I would have sacrificed my own life to save hers, after 
that. 

The bruised and beaten body of the captain, and the two 
women and the child, were carried by the wreckers to the life- 
car, and with them, after an hour’s journey, I arrived ashore, 
thanking God for my deliverance, and surveying with pride 
those whose lives had been spared by my exertions ; while the 
soft blue eyes of the fair-haired girl, raised in eloquence to 
mine, repaid me in a glance for all I had suffered, and kindled 
hope anew. 

The rapture I felt at that moment I shall never forget, and 
cannot describe. It was like emerging from the tomb ; and 
life, to which I had been prepared to close my eyes, unfolded 
a long and charming vista to my imagination. I had never 
prized existence so much before, or felt more reconciled to my 
lot. 


CHAPTER X. 

HOW WE FARED, AND HOW I FELT. 

From the beach where we landed we were conducted across 
a rough and desolate tract of country, till we came to a road 
leading to a small village, inhabited by fishing families and 
dogs. Here we halted, and received the hospitalities of the 
place. In the rude cottages of the villagers we found protec- 
tion from the bitter cold, and in their coarse, black cake and 


ADEIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


71 


dried fish that scanty nourishment which we had so long 
craved. We found, too, warm hearts and willing hands to aid 
us, and we thanked God and the people for our rescue from a 
terrible impending death. 

But not to all of us was the boon, if indeed it be a boon, of 
lengthened existence vouchsafed. The mother and her child 
died soon after our arrival at the village, the former preceding 
the other by only a few hours. I watched over them both, as 
exhausted nature yielded to repose ; and Death, solemn, 
silent, and mysterious, snatched them from the world. I was 
not unfamiliar with the sight of the great enemy, as those who 
have followed this autobiography from its commencement are 
aware, but the departure of those two souls, which I had 
guarded on the wreck, touched me more than the spectacle of 
the inanimate curator in the stone building ; and I mourned, 
and even moaned, their loss. Perhaps advancing years had 
something to do with it ; for feeling is undeveloped in child- 
hood, and hardens in the aged. Emotions are most tender and 
deep between the morning and the noon of manhood. 

Only the young lady, the Captain, and myself remained of 
the number taken off the wreck ; but the chief mate, and 
another of those who had gone ashore in the boat, were said to 
be in the light-house, which they had reached, after a fatigu- 
ing journey through the snow. The others had perished on 
the way. 

Por a week, Miss Morgan — the lady alluded to — and Captain 
Whittlestick, were so weak that their removal to St. John’s, 
distant about thirty-four miles, was not attempted; and du- 
ring this time I, who felt comparatively strong, was equally 
faithful in my attentions to both ; but the balance of my sym- 
pathy was decidedly on the lady’s side, and my only regret was, 
that I could do so little to restore her wasted strength, and 
raise her depressed spirits. 

She had to mourn the loss of a brother and an aunt, as well 
as her own misfortune, for they shared the fate of many on the 
wreck. He’ was her only brother too. The blow was heavy 
indeed. 

She had evidently been accustomed to the luxuries of life, 
and I grieved to see her in the midst of such humble surround' 


72 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


mgs as the fisherman’s cottage, in which she was lodged, could 
alone supply. There she lay on a rude wooden bedstead, pre- 
viously occupied by the owner’s two children, with eyes droop- 
ing sadly, her rich, brown hair floating negligently over her 
pillow, which, like the bed, was stuffed with straw ; and her 
tapering arms extended lifelessly by her side ; a listless expres- 
sion pervading her delicate, neatly-chiselled features; and a 
complexion, faint and wan through physical exhaustion, which 
paled and deepened with every passing emotion. 

Her helplessness more than her beauty endeared me to her, 
for had she not been the sufferer she was, I should never have 
dared to feel that tender solicitude, that pity and self-sacrificing 
devotion which I did. I was too young to feel the full force of 
the passion of love, but she awakened within me feelings 
which I had never before experienced ; and I gave way to the 
wildest imaginings, and built such castles in the air that their 
very ruins, still pictured in my memory, are beautiful to re- 
flect upon. Hope allured me onward with a flattering tale, 
and Komance unveiled its mystery. She was my ideal of all 
beauty and feminine gentleness ; the personification of all that 
is most divine on earth. I would have given the world to call 
her sister. She worked a wonderful change in my views of wo- 
mankind ; for my experiences under the tutelage of that vi- 
rago of her sex, Mrs. Bangs, were enough to make a mother- 
less boy live in perpetual dread of ever falling into the hands 
of another daughter of Eve. I certainly knew that there was 
at least one shrew, one termagant in the world, and I shud- 
dered to think how many more there might be. But here was 
an example that redeemed all. 

The anxiety with which I watched the gradual recovery of 
Miss Morgan from the nervous and physical prostration under 
which she labored, was intense. It seemed as if my own life 
hung upon hers, and that if the lamp of her own existence ex- 
pired, mine would also flicker and die out in pure sympathy. 
It was, therefore, with no common joy that I saw her eye 
brighten, and the hue of heightened vitality return to her face ; 
and when the roseate blush of returning health at length came, 
my own pulse quickened with delight, and my brain teemed 
with brilliant fancies, which turned the cold, hard world into a 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


73 


beautiful garden of paradise — none the less lovely because un- 
real. Ah ! the dawn of that happy dream of youth ! How 
pleasant are its memories even now ! There is no elixir like 
the unwritten poetry of the first love of a human being of acute 
sensibilities. Those whose matter-of-fact, prosaic nature has 
never permitted them to feel its holy influence, have never ex- 
perienced the acme of felicity; have never gathered flowers in 
the blooming realms of fancy, nor felt the rapture kindled by 
those visions which imagination can unfold. 

But a truce to sentiment, while we travel to St. John’s, 
where we arrived in an open wagon, nine days after our landing 
from the wreck. 

The Captain still presented a sorry appearance, with his 
head bandaged, his face plastered, and his body so enfeebled 
that he could hardly walk without support. Only a strong man 
could have survived such injuries and hardship as had fallen to 
his lot. 

Miss Morgan had so far recovered her health and strength as 
to feel ready and even anxious to embark on the first vessel 
leaving St. John’s for New York; and my own cuts and 
bruises, inflicted by the mutineers, were rapidly healing. We 
had saved nothing from the wreck but our lives, and fortu- 
nately I had nothing else to lose ; but my companions doubt- 
less felt the inconvenience of being without money or baggage. 
The people of St. John’s, however, with praiseworthy genero- 
sity, got up a subscription for us immediately on our arrival, 
and the accommodations of the City Hotel were offered us, free 
of expense. I began to see that there was some charity in the 
world, after all, and my opinion of it underwent a decided 
change for the better. The cod-flsh aristocracy of St. John’s 
acquired in my estimation a new title to distinction, for they 
had given evidence of a nobility more sterling than that which 
the peerage could confer. 

“ Washington, what are you going to do ?” asked Miss Mor- 
gan, on the second day after we had entered the Newfoundland 
capital, which most people erroneously suppose to be buried in 
fog nearly half the year round ; whereas the fogs that prevail 
on the Great Bank (on which so many vessels have received a 
check) rarely extend to the city, which is far less foggy than 


74 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


London, where the atmosphere may sometimes be cut with a 
knife and fork, and scooped out with a spoon. 

The question took me somewhat by surprise, and I looked 
up at her with curiosity. It was one that I was unable to 
answer, and which circumstances would have to decide. I was 
so glad at escaping with my life that I had since given but little 
heed to the future. 

“ I don’t know,” I answered. “ I guess I’ll have to do what 
the Captain says. ’Why?” 

“ Because, Washington, I’d like you to go to New York with 
me. 

“ Thank you, Miss Morgan ; you’re very kind. I should 
like that myself. But I thought we’d all go there together.” 

“ Well, that is uncertain at present. I shall go by a vessel 
that is to leave in two or three days, and Captain Whittlestick 
may remain here longer than that. ” 

“Oh! then, I’d rather go with you,” I exclaimed in the 
fullness of my heart, and a truer expression of feeling was 
never uttered. 

“Then I’ll speak to Captain Whittlestick about you,” con- 
tinued Miss Morgan, “ and I’ve no doubt he’ll let you go.” 

“Oh! yes, I’m sure he will,” said I, with an evident dispo- 
sition to clinch the matter. After this I 'felt a new joy, and 
when I next found myself in the open air, I leapt and ran in a 
pure intoxication of delight. The chrysalis was fast emerging 
from its shell ; the demure boy was revealing the enthusiasm 
of his nature, and experiencing those vague yearnings which 
are born of youth, hope, ambition, and a sanguine tempera- 
ment. 

The result of this conversation was, that when Miss Morgan 
went on board the schooner, to which she had reference, I ac- 
companied her. It was a glad time for me, for wherever she 
went I rejoiced to go, and it would have pained me sadly to 
have been left behind. I felt as much pleasure as a lover when 
he finds his love reciprocated ; I was proud, grateful, delight- 
ed. I had at last found a friend ! And is it wonderful that I 
worshipped her ? I would have braved and suffered any thing- 
for her ; have followed her, if necessary, into the very jaws of 
death, feeling no dread, and careless of consequences. And 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


75 


yet I hoped for no reward, and had no worldly Interest in view. 
It was pure, unadulterated sentiment, genuine admiration, the 
true impulse of a young and ardent nature ; and the unalloyed 
pleasure, the heartfelt gratification which an indulgence in my 
cherished feelings afforded me, is one of the most beautiful 
memories of my life. I could rhapsodize for pages over this 
one loved theme, but I regard it as too sacred even now for 
minute dissection and photographic description, without which 
some are incapable of investing the narrative of such experi- 
ences with even ordinary interest. . 

The amphitheatric city of St. John’s lay before me, with its 
irregularly-built, low-storied, brick and wooden houses, its tall 
cathedral, and its fortified hills, as I stood on the deck of the 
schooner, while she glided out of the beautiful land-locked bay, 
surrounded by innumerable fish-drying platforms, called 
“flakes;” and passing through the Narrows — a channel wall- 
ed in on both sides by lofty cliffs, supporting heavy batteries 
— found herself on the heaving bosom of the Atlantic. 


CHAPTER XT. 

A NEW PROSPECT PRESENTS ITSELF. 

It was only natural that Miss Morgan should have evinced 
her interest in me by asking me some questions bearing upon 
my former life. We were seated alone one day in the cabin of 
the schooner, when she said : “How came you to go to sea, 
Washington ?” 

And when I returned the answer, “I ran away,” her curios- 
ity was quickened, and she was anxious to learn more. 

“I ran away,” I continued, “because the old lady I lived 
with in Boston treated me so badly, that if I’d staid I should 
have died. She was always flogging me within an inch of my 
life, and threatening to go an inch further next time. It’s a 
wonder to myself that I lived as long as I did with her. She 
starved me, too, all the years I was with her, and said that she 


76 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


would never give me the chance to dig my grave with my 
teeth, as many folks did. But hunger was doing the work faster 
than teeth could have done it, and I was nothing better than a 
living skeleton.” 

She then asked me further particulars of my life, antecedent 
to this period, and I told her that my history was to a great 
extent a mystery to myself, but that I lived in hope of unravel- 
ling it by-and-by. 

“I’ve read of such cases in novels,” she remarked, after 
hearing my story, “ but never knew of one in real life before. 
What a pity that you were left without any one to take care of 
you!” 

“ Yes,” I said regretfully, “I never knew a mother’s love, or 
a sister’s caress, never ” 

The tears welled up into my eyes, and 1 left the sentence 
unfinished. 

“Poor fellow!” and my companion, in sympathy with me, 
shared my emotion. “Never mind, Washington,” she said, 
with an effort, “ I’ll be a sister to you now.” 

“ Thank you. You’re very kind to say so. I only wish you 
always had been, I should have been saved many miseries. 
But will you really ?” I said, suddenly awaking to a full sense 
of the boon she might possibly be conferring upon me, and 
looking straight into her face. 

She took my hand, and whispered : “ Yes !” Then she sur- 
veyed me with a playful smile, and a look of pride, and said : 
“Are you glad ?” 

“Glad!” I exclaimed, “I am more than glad — I’m grate- 
ful.” 

“ I’m sure it is I who ought to be grateful to you, for saving 
my life,” she replied. “When we get to New York I’m going 
to speak to my father about you ; and I know he’ll do 
whatever I ask him. Wouldn’t you like a situation there?” 

“Oh! very much,” I replied. “Do you think he’ll give 
me one ?” 

“Yes; perhaps he’ll give you a place in his own banking- 
house. Would you like that ?” 

“ His own banking-house ! Oh ! yes, I should, better than 
any thing else.” 


ADEIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


77 


Visions of gold dazzled my imagination, and I felt that my 
fortune was made already. 

On our arrival in New York, eleven days after leaving St. 
John’s, she invited me to accompany her home, and a lumber- 
ing, four-wheeled, two-horsed vehicle, constructed with a view 
to its being used as a mourning-coach whenever occasion re- 
quired, carried us at a funereal pace to the east side of UnioD 
Square, where it stopped. 

It was five in the afternoon, and the air was filled with fall- 
ing snow, which had muffled the city with a motley carpet, for 
as the snow fell, it gradually thawed, and was trampled in- 
to slush in crowded thoroughfares. But it hung in spotless 
purity on the leafless branches of the trees, and railings of the 
Square; it placed a crown on the head of the statue of Wash- 
ington ; and it made invisible green of the grass within the in- 
closure. It gave a helmet to every street-lamp, and a mantle 
of ermine to every house-top. 

Miss Morgan, in her impatience to cross the threshold of 
home, rushed up the steps with an impulse of joy, leaving me 
to follow. The door opened as she reached the head of the 
flight of steps ; the figure of a lady flew forward to meet her, 
and the next moment the two were locked in each other’s arms, 
my companion sobbing bitterly. 

“What’s the matter, my dear?” asked the elder one in alarm, 
“ Where’s John and your aunt?” 

“Then you’ve not heard?” exclaimed the other, raising her 
head from the bosom in which it had been buried. 

“0 mother! mother, dear, we were wrecked, and aunt and 
John ” 

The poor girl’s grief stifled further utterance, but the dread- 
ful truth flashed upon the mind of Mrs, Morgan, and she 
gave a faint scream, and sank powerless into a chair in the 
hall. 

“Tell me, tell me, where are they?” she gasped, anxious to 
know the worst. 

Her daughter knelt down, and, with a sudden effort at self- 
control, raised her liquid eyes, and in the sorrow of her heart, 
solemnly whispered the sad tidings : “ They are gone !” The 
mother, trembling and pale with agitation, gave an hysterical 


78 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


scream, and clasped her daughter in a frantic embrace. Then 
tears came to her relief, and both mother and daughter 
wept together in their great affliction. It was a painful, 
touching scene. 

“ Mother, don’t cry,” spoke Miss Morgan, with an effort to 
recover her self-possession ; “I have great cause to be thank- 
ful that I was spared ; four hundred perished — all but five on 
board ; and if it hadn't been for Washington, (looking towards 
me), I should have gone like the rest. He saved me !” 

She sank sobbing in her mother’s lap, but the mother’s eyes 
were fixed on me, as I stood just inside the closed door, a 
silent spectator of the interview. Then she raised her voice : 
“ He saved you : he saved you ! God bless him !” And I be- 
lieve that she would have embraced me in very gratitude if her 
strength had enabled her to rise. 

At this juncture the door-bell rang, and 1 raised the latch to 
admit a gentleman of about fifty-five years, and five feet ten, 
with a large, round body, and a large, round face, the latter 
abounding in creases, and inclining to the florid. His hair was 
very fine, gray, and abundant ; and his keen, brown eyes 
were overhung by bushy brows, also silvered by the hand of 
Time. 

He met me with a look of surprise, but started at the sight 
of the ladies. 

“ Gertrude!” he exclaimed in astonishment, as his gaze met 
that of his daughter. “ Oh ! my dear, when did you arrive?” 
and he stooped and kissed her fondly. 

She clung to him. 

“What’s the matter, my dear? where s John and your 
aunt ?” 

It was painful to answer ; there was a momentary pause ; 
another burst of grief ; and then the terrible tidings met his 
ear. 

“ Father! dear father! I’m the only one left !” 

And she told, as well as she could in broken sentences, the 
awful story of the wreck. And the strong man listened with 
bated breath, and bent down by her side, and wept, and trem- 
bled, and grew pallid under the weight of this great sorrow — 
the loss of his only son and beloved sister. His wife clutched 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


79 


him nervously, and they shared together the grief of a com- 
mon loss. 

4 ‘ You are but a boy,” said he, a few minutes afterwards, 
when his daughter had told him of my part in the catastrophe, 
at the same time taking me warmly by the hand, and eyeing 
me closely ; * ‘ but you are a brave one, and I am glad to thank 
you for all that you’ve done for my daughter. Consider me 
your friend ; and whatever I can do for you I will.” 

Shortly after this, I was invited to make myself at home, 
and a hall bed-room on the top floor was assigned to my exclu- 
sive use. I was overjoyed, and very thankful. No gorgeous 
suite of apartments in a royal palace ever gave greater satisfac- 
tion to their occupant than that plain hall bed-room did to me. 
1 felt that I was in clover at last. I was installed in the house 
of the first woman who had aroused my admiration, and 
awakened that sublime, divine passion which I had never be- 
fore felt. The mere idea elated me, and in the gladness of my 
heart I leapt and laughed, ay, and even prayed that the cup of 
happiness just raised to my lips might not be dashed aside, but 
that fortune would continue to smile upon me, and that even 
the possibilities of which I as yet only dared to dream, might 
some day come to pass. Hope and ambition combined to add 
fuel to the fire of my enthusiasm, and in the exuberance of my 
spirits, my imagination carried me far into the glowing future. 
Ah ! how like the mirage of the fruitless desert are many of the 
fond imaginings of our youth ! But who, after all, would miss 
those bright visions that beguiled us when we stood on the 
threshold of the great world, before experience, stern, bitter, 
and sorrowful, had taught us how delusive were the hopes we 
cherished; that 44 all is not gold that glitters that the paths 
of life are hard to travel, and even those of glory 44 lead but to 
the grave that a thorn lurks beneath every rose ; that life is 
beset with more misery than it is brightened with happiness ; 
that among mankind there is more vice and uncharitableness 
than virtue and generosity, and far more love of mammon than 
of merit ; and that, above all, 

* 4 Man wants but little here below, 

Nor wants that little long.” 


80 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


1 began to think 1 might become a great man some day ; 
that I might unravel the mystery that hung over me, and come 
into a large fortune, and marry. Ah ! whom ? what business 
had I to be dreaming of a wife and fireside joys — I hardly yet 
in the middle of my teens ? How dared I to aspire to such 
dignity ? Ah ! well ! 

On the next evening after my arrival, Mr. Morgan sent for 
me, and I found him alone in the up-stairs sitting-room, where 
he was in the habit of spending his leisure when at home. 

“My daughter has been speaking to me about you, Wash- 
ington, and I want to see what I can do for you. She tells me 
that you’re a scholar, and would like to go into an office. 
Now if you think you would like it, and are willing to do your 
best to work your own way up in the world, I’ll give you a 
situation at a salary large enough to enable you to support 
yourself, in my banking-house.” 

“ Thank you, Sir,” I said, “ I’m very much obliged to you, 
and I’ll do my best to merit your kindness.” 

“ Then,” resumed my benefactor, “ let me give you a little 
advice. I’m told that you never had a father or mother to in- 
struct you, and have had a hard time of it. You’re now about 
to commence your career in life anew, and your future depends 
upon the good use you make of your present opportunities. 
When you enter my employ to-morrow, you’ll begin the ma- 
nagement of your own affairs. I shall give you at first a salary 
of forty dollars a month, payable weekly, and with this you can 
board comfortably in some quiet and respectable private family. 
You ought not to pay more than four or five dollars for board, 
and the balance ought to supply you with clothing, pay for 
your washing, and leave you always with a balance in hand. 
When I began life, I know that I had to get along with much 
less. Practise economy ; never spend quite as much as you 
earn ; be careful of your companions, for bad company has 
been the ruin of thousands ; you’ll find very few friends ; you 
may find a friend some day in your wife, and your wife's father, 
but you’ll find few real friends besides ; attend some place of 
worship twice every Sunday ; make a practice of rising early, 
and cultivating habits of industry ; remember that ‘ early to 
bed, and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


81 


wise ; ’ I get up at six o’clock every morning, winter and sum- 
mer, and go to bed, as a usual thing, regularly at eleven ; that 
* gives me seven hours’ sleep — I don’t believe in ‘four for a 
man, six for a sluggard, and eight for a fool but too much 
sleep makes a man grow rusty. It is unnecessary for me to 
impress upon you the value of honesty, integrity, punctuality, 
and perseverance in business. Without these you’ll never 
succeed in the long run. Be careful of your good name. You 
know what Shakspeare says : ‘ Who steals my purse steals trash ; 
but he who filches from me my good name robs me of that 
which not enriches him, and makes me poor indeed.’ I don’t 
care what you’ve been hitherto, but follow these maxims in the 
future, and with such natural intelligence as I see you possess, 
and such a letter of introduction as you carry in your face, 
you’ll be sure to get on, and you’ll always find me a friend in 
need. Till you choose a boarding-place, you can remain here ; 
and now that I think of it, one of my clerks, Mr Johnson, may 
take you ; I’ll speak to him to-morrow about it. Be down at 
the bank — Edward Morgan and Company, forty-five Wall 
Street — in the morning by ten o’clock, after that, always at 
nine Stay ! here’s fifty dollars ; you’d better get yourself some 
new clothes with this. 

I thanked him again, and returned to the front-basement, 
which was hung with pictures, and used as a breakfast and tea- 
room by the family. There I met Miss Morgan, 

“Well, what did father say to you? Oh! I’m so glad ; 1 
knew he would!” she exclaimed, when I told her of my good 
fortune. 

“Now, Washington, every thing depends upon yourself,” 
she continued giving the finishing touch, as I thought, to her 
father’s excellent piece of advice. 

“ Does it indeed ?” I said to myself, and 1 resolved to keep 
those words steadily before me ever after. They would guide 
and encourage me, give me confidence in myself to accomplish 
what otherwise I might despair of, and while rendering me cau- 
tious of committing wrong, embolden me to fight manfully the 
battle of life, despairing of nothing. And who could tell 
what I might not achieve, when every thing depended upon 
myself ? 


82 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


CHAPTER XII. 

WALL STREET AND THE BOARDING HOUSE. 

1 left the house in Union Square immediately after break- 
fast. on the next morning, with the fifty-dollar bank-bill in 
my pocket, to buy a new suit of clothes, before going to the 
bank. It was the largest sum of money I had ever touched, 
and, in my own estimation, it added considerably to my im- 
portance. 

As the clock of Trinity Church struck ten I entered the bank- 
ing-house, and inquired for Mr. Morgan, who in a few minutes 
afterwards emerged from his private office and introduced me 
to Mr. Perkins, the cashier, with the remark: “Mr. Perkins 
will find you plenty to do.” 

He then called for Mr. Johnson, who came forward. “This 
is a young man I feel an interest in,” said he ; “ he’s to be in 
the office, and I want to see him in a comfortable home. Can 
you take him to board in your family ?” 

“ Yes, sir,” replied Mr. Johnson. 

“ Then that’s all right. You can settle the terms between 
you,” said Mr Morgan, and I was fairly installed. 

“I’ll take down your name,” observed the cashier, and he 
opened a book and made me spell it for him — Washington 
Edmonds . He asked me where I lived, and his eye brows 
were suddenly drawn up in surprise when I told him I was 
then staying at Mr. Morgan’s house, and I noticed that his 
nose simultaneously performed a sniffing movement like that 
of certain animals in search of food ; his eye-lids, too, went 
up and down, and he gave his mouth a couple of twists which 
reminded me of a horse impatient of the bit. He seemed a 
little puzzled, a little displeased, and considerably astonished. 

“ That man,” I said to myself, “has a son of his own that 
be wants to get into the bank, and he regards me as an inter- 
loper.” He was probably fifty, and thin, cadaverous, hollow- 
cheeked, hollow-eyed, narrow-shouldered, black-haired, tall, 
angular, and apparently dyspeptic. He was dressed in a com- 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


83 


plete suit of black, and addicted to making strange noises in 
his throat at frequent intervals. He would have been re- 
cognized as an American in London, Paris, or New Zealand. 

I was set to work at indexing a letter-book at first, and after- 
wards received a lesson in the art of using the copying-press, 
and another in stamping checks, and so the day wore away. 
At five o'clock Mr. Johnson came to me and said : “I’m going 
home now, will you come with me ?” I asked the cashier il 
he had any further use for me, and he answered drily : “No.” 

“We’ll get into the stage,” said my companion when we 
entered the street, and I followed him up the high steps of an 
omnibus, which started before I had got fairly in, and threw 
me into the lap of an old lady with a large umbrella and a 
small lap-dog, that snarled at my unceremonious advances. 
She made room for me beside her, near the door, while Mr. 
Johnson rose and struggled between two opposing lines of 
limbs towards a small round aperture near the top, where he 
knocked with his cents to arrest the attention of the driver , 
but failing in that, he pulled the strap, which gave the latter 
control over the door, and finally succeeded in paying his fare, 
and moving back in a stooping posture, and unusually red in 
the face, to his seat, which, during his absence, had been oc- 
cupied by a new-comer. Mr. Johnson smiled grimly, and so 
did one or two others ; but he said nothing, and showed his 
good nature by standing. I was aoout to offer him my own 
seat when the omnibus stopped, and a lady entered. She saw 
the omnibus was full, and cast a threatening look at me, which 
I interpreted as a demand for my seat. The next moment 
I rose and offered it. She took it as a matter of course, with- 
out a word or a “Thank you,” and then handed me a dollar- 
bill to pass to the driver ; but as Mr. Johnson was nearer the 
top, he took charge of it. The driver refused to change it, 
whereupon somebody handed me a ten-cent piece to pay for 
her, which went the way of the bill, there being a return of 
four cents in change, which I handed back. The lady looked 
on complacently. I cannot say whether she thanked the gen- 
tleman who paid her fare, but she appeared to regard the pro- 
ceeding as perfectly right and proper. The omnibus stopped 
several times to take in more passengers, some of whom were 


84 


ADKIFT WITH A "VENGEANCE. 


deterred from entering by its already over-crowded appearance, 
but others pushed their way up, and hung on to the step and 
door behind, utterly regardless of comfort. It was damp and 
cold, and the streets were muddy, so the windows were all kept 
shut ; and by unanimous consent, the sixteen people inside 
breathed each other’s breath, and excluded fresh air, while the 
windows trickled with the vapor. 

I was glad when Mr. Johnson pulled the strap, and we 
alighted. “Those stage-owners,” said he, “make the public 
do their work. There ought to be a conductor to every stage, 
to receive fares. I had to pass no less than five different ones, 
and hand back the change, besides losing my seat.” 

We turned out of Broadway into Ninth street, and soon after 
crossing Fifth Avenue, my companion said, “This is the 
house,” and we ascended the steps together. 

“ This is Mrs. Johnson,” said he, introducing me, in the front 
parlor a few moments afterwards. “ He’s in the office, and 
Mr. Morgan recommended him to me.” 

“Very kind, I’m sure. What sized room would you like? 
I’ve only a small one, on the top floor ; perhaps that would 
suit you.” 

“ Yes,” I said, “ what will that be ?” 

Mrs. Johnson glanced at her husband, but he turned 10 
the window. “We have let that before for six dollars,” she 
replied, “but ” 

“ Five will be enough,” put in Mr. Johnson. 

“ I can’t pay more than that,” I remarked — “four or five.” 

“ Ah ! we never take any one for four,” she observed, bring- 
ing her hands together and smiling away the indignity I had 
offered her. 

“ Would you like to see the room ?” 
m “Thank you, I would.” 

“ Then come up with me,” 

She led the way to the attic, and I took possession of an 
apartment not quite big enough to swing a cat in, (if the illus- 
tration is allowable,) and furnished with a single bed, a chair, 
a cracked looking-glass, a wash-basin to match, a rickety toilet- 
table, and a portrait of my great namesake Washington, which 
nung over the head of the bed, and looked down upon me 
benignly. 


-ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


85 


Mrs. Johnson was a lady not far from forty, but on which 
side of the number I could not say. She was a faded beauty, 
with too genuine a love of nature to have her decayed teeth 
extracted, and a set of artificial ones substituted, so, when she 
smiled, two rows of blackened masticators presented a dark 
line between her thin well-shaped lips ; and she had evidently 
formed a habit of compressing these as much as possible. Her 
face was furrowed from the forehead to the chin, which was 
rather longer than was consistent with perfect symmetry — a 
common feature, however, among my countrywomen, and espe- 
cially New Yorkers. Her complexion had once been bright, 
but was now of a pale, yellowish fruity tint ; it was heightened 
by a touch of rouge, however ; while her eyes, overhung by 
long, dark, drooping lashes, were black and lustrous, sparkling 
with animation and intelligence. 

Her husband had never been good-looking to the world at 
large, but possibly she had recognized in him charms which 
others had failed to detect. He was a little past her own age, 
with nothing whatever remarkable aboht him. He was of a 
common type of humanity, such as we see, without particularly 
observing, wherever we go. He had a rather large head, with 
brown hair tinged with gray, and inclining to baldness, a short 
thick neck, round shoulders, and a body five feet eighty by 
more than the usual circumference ; his eyes were in color like 
his hair, and somewhat watery ; he had a habit of laughing in 
a good-humored, grunting, asthmatic way, which would have 
jarred on a musical ear ; and another of saying, every few 
minutes during conversation, “That’s so — that’s so,” whether 
it was so or not. 

At six o’clock dinner was served in the back-parlor, which 
was separated from the front one merely by a folding-door, and 
then for the first time* I saw the boarders. They came troop- 
ing in one after another, and took their accustomed seats at 
the table. I was introduced to a lady sitting next to me, who, 
however, expressed the pleasure she felt at our meeting by 
persistently “looking the other way,” and not saying a word 
to me or giving me the chance to say one to her during the 
meal. She had no idea of fraternizing with boys or hobblede- 
hoys I could see. 


86 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


Four ladies and six gentlemen, besides the host at the end 
of the table, and the hostess at the other, and myself, were 
soon seated at the table, and there was still a blank spot left 
where an empty chair, a napkin and a knife and fork, repre- 
sented one absentee. 

During dinner there was no lack of conversation, and the 
proceedings were on the whole mirthful. 

One young gentleman, with a red neck-tie and a white face, 
manifested a decided inclination to be humorous, and was 
evidently a lion in his way. He amused himself by “ poking 
fun ” at every body else, and turning their solemn truths into 
harmless ridicule. He had something to say about every thing, 
and when a grave gentleman, with a parchment-colored com- 
plexion, spoke about the success of a missionary society, he 
immediately evinced decided opinions on the subject, alleging 
that in the Sandwich Islands, the missionaries compelled the 
natives to do the work of horses in pulling them from village 
to village in their wicker-carriages, and winding up with the 
quotation : 

“ If 1 were a cassowary 

On the sands of Timbuctoo, 

I’d eat a missionary, 

Skin and bone and hymn-book too.” 

The parchment-faced gentleman attempted to dispute the 
argument, but was annihilated by a skilfully directed cross- 
fire. 

Mrs. Sneezer was a prodigious' old lady, half as broad as 
long, resembling a rolled-up feather-bed, as thick at the waist 
as elsewhere, with a bolster neck, and a face nearly as big as a 
pillow. She wore conspicuously false teeth, and unmistakably 
false hair, her brown wig, abounding in curls and plaited hair, 
being so far awry as to indicate a perfect indifference to ap- 
pearances on her part. Behind, the short gray hair was visi- 
ble under her black silk cap. She tied her napkin up with 
three old boot-strings knotted together. She took snuff over 
her soup, out of a half-ounce package, and left traces of it on 
her upper lip. She apologized for taking it, and said that it 
kept her spirits up. She further remarked, that if it had not 
been for Mr. — — a certain gentleman at the table — giving her 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


87 


a piece of tobacco on the previous Sunday, when she ran out 
of snuff, wherewith to manufacture some, she did not know 
what she would have done. 

There were a pair of snuffers in the house, for towards the 
close of the meal I saw Mr. Squeezem — a lawyer, as I subse- 
quently discovered, with a small practice and a large family — 
put a finger and thumb into his waistcoat pocket and trans- 
fer something to his nose. He was of a lanky build, and his 
clothes appeared too large for him. He was partially bald, too, 
but with a wet brush had stretched the long, straight, dark 
hair that adorned the region immediately above his ears, 
across his naked cranium. This gentleman, after dinner, com- 
menced an industrious manipulation of his nose, and elevated 
his boots to the top of the mantel-piece, exhibiting at the same 
time several days’ mud on his lower garments. 

One apoplectic-looking gentleman, with a face like a full- 
moon in a fog, was incidentally told by the party with the 
white face and the red neck-tie, that he would make a fine old 
corpse — an observation whieh produced a laugh, but appeared 
in nowise to disconcert him. Then the same young gentleman 
said to a nervous-looking man, with squirrel eyes and an un- 
pleasant way of twitching his face, “ If you’re not the head of 
a donkey, nor the tail of a donkey, what part of a donkey are 
you ?” Upon which the latter ate more voraciously than before, 
and then strangled a laugh into a sheepish ne — igh. He evi- 
dently knew the speaker well, and considered him a privileged 
nuisance. 

On entering the drawing-room I found the stout lady snor- 
ing, with a postage-stamp on her nose, which, on awaking, she 
declared had been placed there by Mr. Squibber, the audacious 
young man with the red neck-tie. 

I had not been many moments in the room, when a dark- 
faced man, under the medium height, entered. I had seen 
that face before. He appeared, from his cold, unfamiliar man- 
ner, to be a new boarder. As I closely scrutinized the fea- 
tures, I thought of the man in the sack whom I had helped to 
Mr. Bangs’s old clothes ; and the longer I looked at him, the 
more I was impressed with the idea that he was the same in- 
dividual. But there was a change. The man who had been 


88 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


hanged wore a heavy beard and moustache when he made his 
escape from the stone building, but the individual before me 
had neither. This, however, only increased my suspicions. 
He sat down. I approached him. 

“ Do you know me ?” I asked. “ Did you ever see me in 
Boston — in the Medical Building ?” 

His face grew pallid, his limbs trembled ; he seized my hand 
spasmodically, and said : 

“ Are you the boy ?” 

“That gave you the clothes ?” I queried. 

‘Yes.” 

“ I am,” I answered. 

His agitation increased. 

“ Are you going out ?” he inquired. I saw that he wanted 
to speak to me privately, and answered ; 

“Yes.” 

We walked out together. 

He grasped my hand warmly, so warmly that it ached 
for minutes afterwards, as we walked towards the Sixth 
Avenue. 

“ I see you have discovered me,” he said, “but I am not 
sorry that we’ve met again. I can never repay you. The 
only favor I ask now is, that you’ll not betray me — that you’ll 
say nothing about my escape ; that you’ll tell nobody that 
I’m alive. I’ll leave that house to-night. Will you promise 
me ?” 

“ Don’t leave,” I said, “ I’ll say nothing. I’m sorry I spoke 
to you.” 

“ I must, I must,” he replied, with an imploring look. “ But 
you’ll still be my friend, won’t you ? I shall leave the country 
soon. I’ll go back and get my baggage now ,* you’ll promise 
not to say a word of the truth, won’t you ?” 

I renewed my assurance, and he again grasped my hand 
tightly. 

“ Then wait here, will you, while I go and pay my bill ?” 

“ I’ll do any thing to satisfy you that I mean you no in- 
jury.” 

He ran back to the house, and in a few minutes returned, 
saying, seriously ; 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


89 


“ I’ve packed up; I’m going for a coach; come with 
m" 

“You mistrust me, ” I said. 

“No, no; come along. ” The voice was thick and hoarse. 
I complied. An adjoining stable supplied a carriage, and he 
drove back without me to take away his trunk. 

“ Then it was his place that was vacant at dinner,” I said 
to myself musingly. “How strange that I should have met 
him again !” 

When I returned, perplexed and wondering, one of Mr, Mor- 
gan’s servants was waiting in the hall with a message for me. 
I was wanted in Union Square. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

WHICH IS ON THE WHOLE BOTH MIRTHFUL AND SENTIMENTAL. 

After answering Miss Morgan’s numerous inquiries, as to 
how I liked the bank and the boarding-house, and satisfying 
her that I was very comfortable and happy indeed, I returned 
home ; and happening to go down-stairs in search of a drink 
of what Mrs. Bangs facetiously called “Adam’s ale,” I found 
the front-room adjoining the kitchen in the basement, occu- 
pied by a merry company, consisting of the gentlemen boarders 
and two of their friends, who were engaged in the agreeable 
task of concocting a bowl of punch. 

I was about to close the door after looking in, when several 
voices cried, “Come in!” and I was invited to make one of 
the party., I remembered the advice Mr. Morgan had so re- 
cently given me, and I felt that I was in danger of doing a 
wrong thing ; but being at home, and in the house of my em- 
ployer's clerk, I ventured to comply. 

“What have you done with Mr. Jones?’ asked one, evi- 
dently alluding to the boarder who had just left. 

“Where’s be gone? what made him leave?” inquired 
another. 


90 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


** I knew him in Boston,” said L 

“ Well, who is he ?” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“ What made him leave as soon as he saw yon were 
here?” 

“ I cannot say. ’ 

“He’s afraid of you, that’s certain.'* 

The materials for the punch had been purchased by general 
subscription of the boarders ; and Mr. Wasper, the bee-faced 
gentleman, with squirrel eyes and an unpleasant way of 
twitching his features, was president by his own appointment, 
and punch-maker by his own determination. The materials 
had just arrived from a neighboring comer grocery — lemons, 
brandy, rum, and sugar — and a brass kettle was singing indus- 
triously on the fire, and spouting steam in whale-like puffs. 

“Now, spiderface, fire away,” said Mr. Squibber, the young 
man with the white face and red neck-tie, addressing Mr. 
Wasper, who forthwith redoubled his exertions in the prelimi- 
nary lemonade-making. This done, after much tasting he 
added the brandy, and then twice as much rum, stirring the 
mixture all the while with an energy worthy of a cook making 
custard. Then he drank three champagne glasses-full at short 
intervals, in order to satisfactorily test its quality, following 
which he persisted in handing the same glass all round, in- 
stead of waiting till others were brought in. Some did not 
like the principle of having only one glass for eight mouths, 
but Mr. Wasper silenced objection by saying: “O man! 
what’s the odds?” Others remarked that the punch had too 
much rum in it, to which he made a similar reply, at the same 
time giving a practical indorsement of the excellence of his 
brewing, by drinking another glass. The parlor-maid and a 
tray full of glasses here entered the room. 

“The deuce take the tray; I take the seven,” said Mr. 
Squibber, and the seven glasses immediately found their way 
into as many hands. 

By this time the visual orbs of the punch-maker had begun 
to assume a bleary aspect, and his mental faculties to undergo 
considerable obfuscation, while he became proportionately ex- 
cited. He spoke incoherently in a thick voice, and his face 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


91 


assumed an oily polish, which led the irrepressible Squibber to 
remark that he was the most polished man he ever saw. 

Two glasses were filled, and the punch-brewer was deputed 
to carry them up to Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, who were suppos- 
ed to be dozing in their private parlor ; and Wasper staggered 
up-stairs to execute the task, spilling the contents by the way. 
Then two more glasses were filled for Mrs. Sneezer and Miss 
Crane, a lady with a neck like a giraffe, the same who sat next 
to me at dinner, both of whom were in the parlor, wondering 
what the gentlemen were doing down-stairs, to be making so 
much noise; and Wasper again staggered up-stairs, but to his 
dismay neither of the ladies would accept the proffered bever- 
age, so down he came to report the circumstance, emptying 
the glasses as he did so, for the double purpose of lightening 
his burden and slaking his thirst. But the p^nch-drinkers be- 
low would not listen to a refusal, and promptly re-filled the 
glasses, and sent him back to enforce compliance, several of 
them accompanying him to the parlor-door, where they stood 
grinning, while Wasper, with a glass in each hand, which he 
vainly endeavored to dispose of, cut a very ridiculous figure 
indeed. So, after considerable laughter at his expense, he 
withdrew with a rolling movement, and obtained satisfaction 
by appropriating the contents of the glasses to himself, as in 
the previous instance. 

The punch continued to circulate with great rapidity after 
this, and every body seethed to take delight in proposing 
bumper-toasts, to all of which Wasper faithfully drank, while 
the others did not, but looked on, and enjoyed the fun hearti- 
ly. It was evidently the design of the party to get him under 
the table in the shortest possible time. All insisted on the 
president keeping his glass full, and leaving no “heel-taps,” 
whenever he raised it to his lips, and in this manner it came to 
pass that by the time the punch-bowl was empty he had drank 
about five times as much as any one else. His countenance 
bad become bloated and very shiny, while his eyes looked 
fishy, and the veins of his hands and temples bulged out like 
streaks of maccaroni and vermicelli. Nevertheless, he exclaim- 
ed : “Gen’lm-en, I proposhe nother punch !” 

“I second that motion,” said Mr. Squeezem, the lawyer 


92 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


with the small practice and a large family, whose better-half 
was waiting for his coming up-stairs, at the same moment 
grasping a couple of lemons which lay on the mantel-piece. 

“ Hold, enough !” cried the apoplectic-looking gentleman, 
who had been told that he would make a fine old corpse. 

“Go on, MacDuff !” said Squibber to the punch-brewer, and 
the work proceeded accordingly. 

“Give us a song,” said Mr. Squeezem to the wearer of the 
red neck-tie, who occasionally made the air melodious in his 
own room. The obliging Squibber promptly assented, and, 
after clearing his throat, in trumpet-tones, commenced; 

“ If I were Margery Daw, 

If I were Margery Daw.” 

First in a low key, then in a high key, and again in a falsetto, 
he repeated the one line till he provoked his audience to laugh- 
ter, and ended in a peal himself. 

Then a German, with round, blue eyes, screened by a pair 
of spectacles, was called upon for a story, which he began in 
the Teutonic tongue, greatly to the amusement of the rest 
of the company, who had not the remotest idea of what he was 
talking about. 

“ You may stand down, witness,” said the owner of the red 
neck-tie, and the representative of Vaterland subsided. 

“ I rise to a point of order,” said Mr. Squeezem. “ I main- 
tain that Mr. Wasper is mistaking rum for brandy.” 

“ That’s so !” ejaculated the brewer. Meanwhile Mr. Squib- 
ber withdrew Mr. Squeezem’s chair, and when the latter at- 
tempted to sit down, he went to the floor, to the great merri- 
ment of the rest of the party. His wife opened the door at 
that moment, and saw her lord and master in the awkward act 
of sprawling. She withdrew hastily from the gaze of so many, 
and called him out for a lecture, which had the effect of in- 
ducing him to accompany her up stairs, and we saw no more 
of him that night. 

“ It’s your turn for a remark, Wasper,” observed the incor- 
rigible Squibber. 

“ T-t-t-tell-ell, tell you wha-t-t t-is,” ejaculated that worthy 
in response, but vox faucibus haesit ; he could say no more. 


ADKIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


93 


At this juncture some one, apparently accidentally, upset his 
glass of punch over Mr. Wasper’s whiskers, a circumstance 
which caused him to grin like a wild beast, and stammer aloud. 
The offender bowed his apologies, but was simultaneously at- 
tacked in a playful manner by the outraged party, who had the 
misfortune to lose his balance, and go to the ground in the en- 
deavor to obtain satisfaction. He was picked up, however, 
without delay, and a general reconciliation took place over a 
bumper to the ladies. The bowl, for the second time, soon 
became empty, and glistening eyes, and flushed faces were 
turned upon each other. 

“Let’s have a game of leap-frog,’* suggested Squibber. 
“ Wasper, I'll give you a back.” 

The table was pushed aside, and the offer was accepted by 
the latter with a grin, and the next moment he flew over it, 
like a shuttle-cock from a battle door, and, luckily for himself, 
fell into the arms and stomach of the inflated German, (whom 
Squibber called German sausage,) instead of against the wall, 
to the intense disgust of Mynheer, who could not suppress an 
exclamation of pain. Then quickly returning, as if by the re- 
bounding force of the collision, he again flew at the barricade, 
which by this time had become a crossing-bridge for the whole 
party ; but this time he failed to clear the leap in his flight, 
and he dropped with his full weight upon the head of Squib- 
ber, and both went down together. The noise had become so 
great as to disturb the other inmates of the house, and loud 
knocking from the outside was now heard at the door, which 
one of the revellers had locked, at the same time hiding the 
key. 

“ Who’s dat knocking at de door?” modestly inquired Mr. 
Squibber, When the key was at length found, Mrs. Johnson 
appeared, and expressed her surprise that gentlemen should so 
far forget themselves, and they were all dumb. 

The party then broke up. Wasper dashed up-stairs wildly, 
heaving and staggering from banister to wall, and entered the 
front-parlor, where Mrs. Sneezer and Miss Crane were still 
seated. He looked around vacantly, but made no attempt to 
open his mouth. Then he dropped on to a chair, and, bury- 
ing his head in his hands, began to doze. The German, sitting 


94 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


near, nudged him, upon which he groaned and whined, to the 
great alarm of Miss Crane, who very properly rose and left the 
room. 

“Mr. Wasper, let me offer you a pinch of snuff,” said Mrs. 
Sneezer. “ I see you’re sleepy and he plunged his thumb 
and finger deep into the half-ounce package, which she held 
towards him. 

Mr. Wasper began to sneeze. 

“ Poor young' man,” she soliloquized, “what will become of 
him?” 

I left her giving him some very good advice for his future 
guidance* and went to bed, to dream over my first day’s expe- 
rience in the boarding-house. I have said thus much about 
it because it remained my home for more than five years, dur- 
ing the whole course of which I never witnessed a repetition of 
the scene I have just attempted to describe. Indeed, life in 
the boarding-house became monotonous, and lest the reader 
should have any doubt on the subject, I may mention that on 
this occasion I was not one of the punch-drinkers, although I 
confess to an indulgence in more laughter than such an exhi- 
bition of intemperance should have called forth. The thought- 
lessness of youth is, however, proverbial, and now, in my 
graver years, I would moralize sadly over what at one time 
might have simply amused me. “Be temperate in all things,” 
is an injunction I always strive to obey, and I condemn intem- 
perance as I would a crime, just as I advocate the practice of 
the Christian virtues — including a strict morality — and the 
careful observance of religious and social duties, for we owe 
an example to society as well as a duty to ourselves. 

Mr. Wasper was never known to commit a single indiscre- 
tion after that recorded, and he married Mrs. Sneezer's only 
daughter about a twelvemonth after he had listened to her good 
advice. Mr. Squibber left for parts unknown, after incurring 
a debt for board, which he found it inconvenient to liquidate, 
and so the spirit of the party vanished. 

During these five years, in spite of the enmity of the cashier, 
1 had worked my way up in the bank to a confidential position, 
and a salary of a thousand dollars per annum ; I had, too, 
been a regular visitor at the house in Union Square, and my 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


95 


attachment for Miss Morgan had only strengthened with the 
lapse of time, while she invariably manifested towards me a 
more than sisterly affection. Her mother had more than once 
hinted to her that she appeared to care for no one but me. 

“Do you know what they say of us, Washington?” she said 
one evening when I entered the drawing-room. 

“ No ; what ?” 

“ Why, they say we ’re, going to be married !” 

“ How very nice !” I exclaimed, taking her hand ; “ there’s 
many a true thing said in jest.” 

She colored slightly, and turned away with a laugh. 

I felt a little embarrassment, but endeavored not to show it. 

“Well, what did you tell them ?” 

“ I didn’t tell them anything ; I said that people talked a 
great deal of nonsense.” 

“What a pity I’m not the fortunate man. If I were, how 
happy I should be. I’m sorry I’ve not a hundred thousand a 
year.” 

“Why?” 

“ Because then I’d say, ‘ Gertrude, my dear, will you have 
me ?’ But as it is, it would be presumption in me to think of 
you. You are endowed with wealth and a luxurious home, I 
have nothing but what I owe to you. It would be unjust in 
me to drag you down, even if I had the power, to my own 
level. In the present state of society it is considered by no 
means necessary for people who love each other to marry, 
unless their circumstances as well as their dispositions harmon- 
ize ; and the result, unfortunately, in too many cases is that 
people are matched but not mated, and that happiness is sacri- 
ficed at Mammon’s altar. But if I go on talking in this man- 
ner you’ll think me very serious or very absurd. ” 

“ Do you think money the one thing needful ?” she asked, 
looking me earnestly in the face. 

“ I think it one of the needful things of married as well as 
single life. The proverb tells us, that when poverty comes in 
at the door, love flies out of the window ; but it is by no means 
the only or the principal thing necessary to the enjoyment of 
the nuptial state. Better is a crust, sweetened with peace and 
contentment, than a feast embittered by domestic discomfort. 


96 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


And enough is as good as a feast. I am sermonizing, you will 
perceive.’' 

“You speak like a philosopher,” she replied, with affected 
buoyancy. “ I hope you don’t think me mercenary.” 

“No, indeed ; you must know that I know you too well to 
think that. You are one of the most self-sacrificing, generous, 
unselfish creatures in the world.” 

“ Well, then, why did you speak about money ?” 

“Why did I wish that I had a hundred thousand a year? 
Oh ! because that’s a nice income to have, and it would enable 
me to do so much more than I can now ; not indeed that I am 
the least dissatisfied with my lot ; on the contrary, I have every 
reason to be proud and grateful. But, Gertrude, you have 
made me ambitious. You may guess in what direction that 
ambition lies. As I said before, if I were a rich man, I would 
offer my hand — for my heart you know you already have ; but 
being a poor one, if the offer ever is made, it must come from 
you.” 

“I didn’t mean to have'you speak m this manner,” she said, 
with emotion, which brought moisture to her eyes; “you 
always take things in such a matter-of-fact way.” 

There was a child-like simplicity about her which was more fas- 
cinating than her beauty; and as I took her hsnd, and she sank 
sobbing on my shoulder, I felt unmanned, and as if I had done 
some great wrong. I had handled the sensitive plant with too 
rude a touch. What should I do in atonement ? I stooped 
and kissed her. 

“ Is it mine ?” I said, taking her hand. 

She replied by a pressure of my own, and silence gave con- 
sent. 


ADEEFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


97 


CHAPTER XIV. 

SUNSHINE AND CLOUDS. 

It was arranged between ns, before the close of the inter- 
view last referred to, that Gertrude should declare our state 
of feeling to her father, and submit the matter for his 
consideration. Accordingly, when, two evenings afterwards, 
I called to see her, she had a message for me. Her father, de- 
sired to see me, up-stairs. 

I found him seated alone in the same room, where, before 
entering his employ, he had given me his advice regarding my 
future conduct in life. I entered his presence not entirely 
without gloomy forebodings, but his friendly manner soon re- 
assured me. 

“Washington,” he began, “I wish to say a few words to 
you on an important subject. My daughter tells me that she 
has a great affection for you, and that you are equally attached 
to her. In other words, I suppose my consent is asked to your 
marriage. I have, of course, my duties as a father to fulfil ; 
but I am unwilling to oppose her choice in the selection of a 
husband. You have no money beyond what you earn, it is 
true, but I believe you to be well meaning and of good moral 
character ; and, therefore, to cut the matter short, I give my 
consent to your engagement. You are still very young, and 
there is no particular hurry about fixing the wedding-day. But 
remember, that in giving you the hand of my only living child, 
I saddle you with a great responsibility. Her happiness is 
dear to me, and if I did not think it would be to her welfare to 
marry you, I would withhold my consent. As you have not 
the means to support her in the manner in which she has been 
accustomed to live, I shall make proper provision for her when 
the time comes. But of that we can say more hereafter. Only 
promise to take good care of her, and I shall be satisfied. If 
your affection is sincere, and you act right, I think the mar- 
riage may be a good thing for you both.” 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


I assured him that I should cherish her as the apple of my 
eye, and hold her dearer than life itself. 

The great aspiration of my life was realized ! I became im- 
bued with holy feelings ; for assuredly the love of a virtuous 
woman is purifying, elevating, ennobling to man, above all 
else. My first, my only love, had been requited, and I was 
blessed. Had I been a Turk, I should have muttered thanks 
to Allah, and crossed myself in prayer. But custom is law ; 
and not being a Turk, or in Turkey, (where it is expected that 
we should do as the Turkeys do,) I did neither. But I was 
grateful, delighted, and jubilant, over my good fortune. The 
hand of the only woman whom I ever loved was precious to 
me beyond all price. It was the one thing which made my 
life valuable ; without her, the world would have been a wil- 
derness to me. The boon was more than I had a right to ex- 
pect, but heart responded to heart too warmly to permit of es- 
trangement. By first impressions, as well as familiar associa- 
tion, our souls had become linked too intimately together to 
permit of isolation without a struggle. Our natural affinities 
were too strong to enable us to suffer estrangement without 
pain. What the Siamese twins would suffer physically, by 
separation, we should have suffered mentally. How joyous 
and gladdening then, to me, this reciprocity of affection, this 
unity of hearts ! I say hearts, because the sense is well un- 
derstood, and that is exactly the sense I mean to convey ; but 
in reality the heart is no more the seat of feeling than the 
right or the left thumb, or the middle finger. So too, of the 
spleen, and much beside ; such allusions have their founda- 
tion in vulgar errors. 

I was happy — ah ! how happy ; I well remember. The me- 
mory of that halcyon season is still vivid, but I cannot think 
of it now without a tear ; and this is not unmanly mourning. 

And why ? 

Ah ! what floods of thought rush tumultuously to my heated 
brain, as I write ! God help me ! 

Yet I did no wrong ; but to be esteemed guilty, is to be 
guilty to mortal eyes. 

“Of what ?” 

My enemy the cashier wove around me the meshes of de- 


ADBIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


99 


struction. He conceived a dislike for me. I had rightly ap- 
prehended that he had a son of his own, whom he wished to 
place in the bank in my stead. He used his own guilt to ac- 
complish his purpose. He had embezzled money belonging to 
the bank, and he strove to fasten the crime upon me. He 
hinted his suspicions to Mr. Morgan, and filled that gentle- 
man’s mind with grave doubts. I was immaculate, but what 
of that ? The breath of calumny went abroad. I was tabooed 
in the office, but not discharged. Mr. Morgan was loth to act 
without proof. I was the only one, beside the cashier, who 
had access to the key of the safe. He reported that he had 
missed small amounts from time to time, and that he had re- 
solved to place marked coins in the way of the transgressor. 
To this plan of discovery Mr. Morgan assented. Meanwhile I 
noticed a great coldness in his manner towards me, and I sus- 
pected that something was wrong, as much as he suspected 
that I had been doing wrong. 

“ Have you change for a ten-dollar-bill ?” said the cashier to 
me one day, when I was on the eve of taking my departure. 

“I think so,” I said ; and I withdrew my pocket-book from 
the breast-pocket of my coat, where I was always accustomed 
to carry it, and counted out one five-dollar piece, and two two- 
and-a-half-dollar pieces. 

“ Stay here a moment,” said he, and he walked into Mr. 
Morgan’s private office, and in a few moments returned with 
that gentleman. 

“Mr. Edmonds,” began the latter, “ I’m very sorry to say 
that you are suspected of robbing the safe. ” 

I turned pale wuth indignation and mortification, and for a 
moment I stood in speechless astonishment. Figuratively 
speaking, I had been struck by a thunderbolt. 

“I’m surprised at what you say,” I replied, when words 
came to my relief; “the suspicion is entirely false.” 

“ Mr. Perkins has reported to me, on several occasions dur- 
ing the last few weeks, that he has missed small sums of 
money ; and in order to discover the delinquent, he marked 
some five and two-and-a-half-dollar pieces, and put them in 
the safe ; and two of those coins — a five and a two-and-a-half — 
you have just given him, in change of a ten-dollar note.” 


100 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


“ The money I gave him was part of my last month's salary, ” 
1 replied. 

“ Look at those marks,” he continued, pointing out a scratch 
like the letter X on each of the coins.” 

“ Mark or no mark,” I said, “ I came by the money honest- 
ly ; and Mr. Perkins accuses me falsely, and I believe he knows 
it too.” 

Mr. Perkins twitched his eye-brows and lip, and his cadave- 
rous countenance warmed up for a moment. Then he darted 
at me an angry scowl, which I met with a proud look of defi- 
ance and contempt, inspired by conscious honesty, and a feel- 
ing of injured innocence. But the mere sense of being placed 
in the assumed position of a thief — the robber of my benefactor 
and intended father-in-law — embarrassed and confused me, and 
a flood of bitter thoughts rushed across my heated brain. “ O 
God! that I should have come to this!” I mentally ejaculated, 
and I stamped my foot with rage, and my eyes flashed fire upon 
my guilty accuser. 

“Sir,” I said, turning to the cashier, and my face flushed 
with anger as I spoke, “You either knowingly do me a wrong, 
that the Almighty if not man will punish you for, or you labor 
under a grave mistake. Which is it ?” and my teeth ground. 

“I only know that I marked those coins, and put them in 
the safe the day before yesterday ; and I missed them this morn- 
ing.” 

“ You lie !” I exclaimed ; and with an uncontrollable impulse 
of revenge I sprang at his throat. 

“Stay, stay, Sir !” said Mr. Morgan, laying his hand on me. 

I relaxed my hold that instant, and fell back panting with 
emotion. I was sorry for what I had done, and said apologeti- 
cally : “ Excuse me — I regret my indiscretion.” 

It was the first time I had ever raised my hand against my 
fellow-man, but I had never received such aggravation before. 
If this man’s word was believed I was ruined, and all that I 
held dearest in life was lost to me for ever. 

My brow was cold, and beaded with drops. My limbs trem- 
bled, not with fear but anger. I was determined that false- 
hood should not triumph, for want of a denial from me. 

The cashier eyed me with a hawk-like glance, and as if he 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


101 


would have gladly plunged a dagger into my breast. I repel- 
led him with a look of scorn. 

Fortunately the business of the bank was over for the day, 
and all but two of the clerks had gone away ; so we had the 
field pretty much to ourselves, and I felt more at liberty to 
speak and act than if we had been more liable to interruption. 
That either the cashier or I was doomed, so far as the bank was 
concerned, after what had just passed, I was certain. It was 
now a struggle between truth and falsehood, between honesty 
and villainy. But what could I do or say to prove the one or 
disprove the other? Mere assertion I knew would go for little 
or nothing under such circumstances ; for Mr. Morgan had 
always placed unlimited confidence in Mr. Perkins. The proof 
against me, I saw, appeared only too strong to be affected by a 
mere denial. But its very seeming con elusiveness exasperated 
me the more, and added fuel to the terrible fire of my indigna- 
tion. 

Mr. Morgan withdrew, and bade me follow him into his pri- 
vate office. He closed the door, and addressed me solemnly, 
with tears in his eyes. “ Washington, I am sorry for you. 
Although Mr. Perkins’s suspicions were directed towards you 
I was loth to share them. I struggled against the idea of pos- 
sible dishonesty on your part. I had too much friendship for 
you to form a judgment without evidence, although as you 
were the only one besides Mr. Perkins who had rightful access 
to the key of the safe, I considered that his suspicions were 
not altogether unreasonable. But I must say that I was 
anxious to find out, and it was with my knowledge that Mr. 
Perkins placed the marked coins in the safe. They have 
been missed, and are now found in your possession ; 
there is only one inference to be drawn from that, and 
denial is useless. Confession is good for the soul ; and I 
candidly assure you, that if you will speak the truth, and shame 
the devil, I will forgive you ; although, of course, you must 
leave the bank forthwith, and terminate all association with 
my family in future. Not a word shall be said about this 
discovery, and in some new field you may profit by the warn- 
ing you have received. Ah ! Washington, if you had only fol- 
lowed my advice, you would never have been in such a posi- 


102 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


tion as this. I’m sorry for you ; very sorry, indeed, God help 
you I” 

He paused for my reply. 

“I have only to repeat what I just said, in your presence, 
to Mr. Perkins. I protest, before heaven, that I am innocent. 
Sir, you do me a wrong in believing him. He is my enemy, 
and he lies.” 

“Come, come, I can’t listen to such language as that,” he 
replied, hastily ; “I have the fullest confidence in his honesty 
and veracity.” 

“ Are you sure,” I asked, “ that it is not misplaced ?” 

“ 1 cannot disbelieve what he says.” 

“Then,” I exclaimed, “I am lost!” and placing both arms 
on the railing of his desk, I buried my face in my hands, 
and shed the bitterest tears that ever trickled from human 
eyes. 

He was not unmoved, but he merely repeated those hope- 
less, discouraging words, 4< I am sorry for you and they fell 
upon my ear like a knell. 

“Mr. Perkins will pay you the balance of salary due you,” 
he observed, when I looked up ; and I staggered out of the 
room, and into the street, like a drunken man, without utter- 
ing another word. 


CHAPTER XV. 
woman’s love. 

When I collected my scattered senses, my first impulse was 
to proceed direct to Union Square, and confer with Gertrude — 
the one woman whose love was dearer to me than all the world 
beside, and which if lost would leave me desolate and despair- 
ing indeed. 

If she turned against me in my hour of suffering, then adieu 
to existence ; life would have no longer a charm for me, it 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


103 


would be unbearable. Death would beckon me to its embrace, 
and I would gladly follow. Suicide would afford me that re- 
lief which society refused. 

I walked through Wall Street towards Broadway, with flam- 
ing eyes and a spirit too impatient to allow me to enter an om- 
nibus, and too sorrowing to face the cold, hard, unsympathiz- 
ing gaze of strangers. Gradually my pace quickened, and I 
continued walking rapidly till I reached Union Square. Almost 
breathless I knocked at the door, and the next minute I was 
alone with my betrothed. 

“Gertrude,” I said, as she entered the parlor, “ I have met 
with a terrible misfortune. I have been accused by Mr. Per- 
kins of stealing money from the bank-safe, and your father be- 
lieves him.” 

Her eyes dilated, she grew pale, and clutched my arm ner- 
vously. 

“ How excited you are, my dear !” she said, endeavoring to 
calm me. “How false ! Surely, father won’t.” 

“ He does. But you know I’m innocent.” 

A thought suddenly flashed upon me, and I started as if from 
a dream. 

“Ah! I know now,” I exclaimed with a grim and I fear sav- 
age look of triumph. 

“What, what!” she inquired, clasping my hand, and look- 
ing up inquiringly and anxiously into my face. 

“ I left my coat — this coat ” — and I clutched it with my hand, 
“hanging up in the office when I went out to-day, and ah ! I 
know it now, my pocket-book was in it ; I always carry it in 
the inside breast-pocket, and the wretch who accuses me sub- 
stituted his two marked coins for two of those that were in it, 
on purpose to make me appear guilty. Villain ! I know now. 
What a wonder I didn’t think of it before ! I'll wait till your 
father comes home, and tell him.” 

I paused. 

“ What a wicked man ! he was always your enemy, Wash- 
ington,” said Gertrude, crying. 

“You don’t believe me guilty, do you ?” I said. 

“ O darling ! no. How can you ask me such a question? 
And I’m sure my father won’t when he knows.” 


104 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


She buried her face in my breast, and bitterly shared my 
grief. The next moment her father entered the room. 

* 1 Gertrude,” he said, in a peremptory tone, quite unusual 
with him, and without taking the slightest notice of me, “ I 
wish to see you up-stairs.” 

“Now, father?” 

“Yes, at once.” 

“ Wait a moment, and I’ll be down again,” she said to me 
as she obeyed the summons. 

For nearly a quarter of an hour I was left alone, restlessly 
pacing that front-parlor in the twilight of an April day, under 
the burden of my broken spirit, and with an almost agonizing 
sense of injury and degradation. What to me availed my inno- 
cence, if I was believed to be guilty by him who was my 
judge ? I had no power to appeal from earth to the court of 
Heaven to establish the fact. I was the victim of circumstan- 
tial evidence — the most difficult of all to disprove, and espe- 
cially when sustained by a lying tongue. Hours seemed to have 
elapsed before Gertrude returned, sobbing, to my embrace. 

“ Well?” I said. 

She made no reply, but clung closer to me. 

Then she said in broken accents : “ Whatever happens, 
Washington, remember that I shall remain unchanged.” 
Emotion choked her utterance, but in a few moments she re- 
sumed : “I told my father what you said, but he would 
hardly listen to me. He seems to have credited that wicked 
man’s story.” 

While she spoke footsteps descended the stairs, and Mr. 
Morgan re-appeared. I knew that he would have only chill- 
ng words for me, if I allowed him to speak first, so I said, as 
calmly as I could, “ Mr. Morgan, I think I know how those 
coins came into my possession, if indeed they were the marked 
coins that you say were put into the safe the night before 
last ;” and I described to him how I had left my walking-coat, 
with my pocket-book containing my money in it, hanging up 
in the office, while I went out for a few minutes in the office- 
coat I was always accustomed to wear during business hours, 
and my belief that Mr. Perkins had substituted his marked 
coins for my own. 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


105 


“I should be sorry to suspect- you falsely,” he replied, “but 
I cannot harbor such a suspicion as you would lead me to, 
against Mr. Perkins. What motive could he have for injuring 
you, or doing a despicable act of that kind?” 

“ It may be to conceal his own dishonesty,” I replied, “and 
an injury to me would always have been a gratification to him. 
He was my enemy all through. How much does he say he’s 
missed ?” 

“ Well, that’s neither here nor there. He supposes about 
five hundred dollars.” 

“ It may be five thousand,” I remarked, “and he may have 
embezzled it.” 

“You have no right to speak against my cashier’s character 
in that way, Sir. ” 

“ Circumstances alter cases,” I said, “and where a man has 
wilfully endeavored to prove an honest man guilty, the accused 
has a right to retaliate on the principle of self-preservation, 
just as you would have a right to defend yourself against the 
assaults of an assassin. ” 

“ Yes ; but in this case the question is, has Mr. Perkins en- 
deavored to prove you guilty, knowing you to be innocent ?” 

“I solemnly believe that he has.” 

“Well, there is no use in making these assertions, for, after 
all, they are but words. I am sorry to have had cause to 
change my opinion of you, but so it is.” 

“ Many an innocent man,” I said, “has been hanged upon 
circumstantial evidence, but in my case there is no conclusive 
circumstance proven. Those two marked coins which Mr. 
Perkins ^ays he placed in the safe, and which I gave him in 
change fSi: the note, may have been among those paid to me as 
my last month’s salary. The man who would assert a lie to 
injure another, would hesitate at nothing to accomplish his 
purpose. But this I will confidently say, that if he did not 
mark those pieces before paying them to me, he or some one 
else substituted them for similar coins of my own, while I was 
out to-day.” 

Still Mr. Morgan showed no signs of conviction. 

Gertrude, who had been listening anxiously to the conversa- 
tion, now came forward, and said imploringly : 


106 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


“ Father, he’s innocent ; I’m sure he is.” 

“ Keep quiet, my dear,” and he put her back. 

Then turning to me, he said: “Mr. Edmonds, I’m sorry for 
you, but the thing is unfortunately too conclusive. Let us 
have no further conversation on the subject. I have already 
told you that 1 shall not prosecute, nor injure you in any way, 
but I must insist upon your severing your connection with my 
family. If it’s painful to you, I’m sure it’s even more so to me 
and my daughter.” 

Gertrude sobbed, and buried her face in her handkerchief, 
as she stood at her father’s side. 

“That's all I have to say,” he concluded, and was about to 
leave the room, when my good companion and brave defender 
exclaimed: “If you desert him, father, I won’t,” and she threw 
her arms round me. “ He’s innocent ; I know he is.” 

This display of devotion won his admiration in spite of him- 
self, and to spare his own feelings he quitted the room. 

“You are innocent; I know you are,” she repeated, “but 
even if you were not, all the world could not tear me from 
you.” 

I pressed my lips to her brow. Then there came a faint 
murmur, “Washington, dearest,” and I found her swooning in 
my arms. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

IN THE MIDST OF MY DISTRACTION I WRITE A LETTER. 

When a young man of acute sensibilities suddenly finds him- 
self alone with a beautiful girl fainting in his arms, his posi- 
tion, even if she be his betrothed, as in my case, is decidedly 
interesting. The novelty of the situation, the surprise, and 
the uncertainty what to do first, absorb his whole attention, 
very naturally creating anxiety, coupled with the most tender 
sympathy for the lady. It requires tact, delicacy, and a cer- 
tain amount of moral courage to make him fully equal to the 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


107 


emergency, so that he may acquit himself gracefully, and at 
the same time promptly render his charge all proper assistance 
to hasten her recovery. 

When I found myself as described at the end of the last 
chapter, I experienced a shock which instantly aroused me to 
a new sense of responsibility. I felt that I had another de- 
pending upon me for support, in the most literal acceptation 
of the words, and, what was worse, I knew that I was the cause 
of her swooning. In a moment I forgot the painful subject 
which had brought me to the house and tears to her eyes, and 
thought only of her whose enduring love alone made my life 
valuable. 

I tried to remain calm, but the mental excitement under 
which I had previously labored hardly allowed me to do so. I 
was overcome with a sensation of distress, which for a few 
seconds rendered me incapable of doing more than sustain her. 
I stood fixed in the centre of the room gazing earnestly into 
her livid face, as she clung with her arms upon my shoulders, 
her head thrown back, and her eyes closed. I felt her weight 
gradually press more upon me, till she sank like a lifeless body 
in my embrace. 

I spoke to her, I appealed to her, but there was no response. 
I kissed her, I pressed her hand, I tried to feel her pulse, but 
I shook like an aspen-leaf, and was unable to keep my finger 
on her wrist. I summoned strength and courage enough to 
carry her to a sofa, on which I placed her in a reclining pos- 
ture, with her head low, and her face looking upward. Then 
I opened both the windows, and the room-door, and from a 
silver pitcher in the hall procured a glass of water. Kneeling 
by her side, I chafed her cold hands, and tried to whisper her 
back to consciousness ; and just as I was on the point of rising 
to ring the bell for assistance, to my joy she gave signs of re- 
covery. Her hand clasped mine, her lips moved, her eyes 
again revealed their blue. 

My heart beat quicker with delight, and I addressed her in 
tones tremulous with emotion, and when she murmured in re- 
ply, my soul was comforted. Only those who have adored and 
been adored can appreciate the ecstasy of relief that I then 
felt. My life-star was again in the ascendant. 


108 


ADKIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


“ Only a little faintness,” she said with feeble utterance, and 
I assisted her to rise. 

Her color gradually returned, and I held the glass to her 
lips while she drank. There was a ring of the door-bell, and 
her mother entered the room. 

“Well, good-by,” I said, preparing to leave. 

“Stay, stay! let me speak to mother,” and the poor girl 
made a painful effort to recover herself, 

“ No, no ; rest yourself,” I replied. “ I will come again.” 

“What’s the matter, my dear ?” asked Mrs. Morgan, turn- 
ing to her daughter, after shaking hands with me with her usual 
warmth. 

“A great misfortune has overtaken me,” I exclaimed, “ and 
the excitement has been too much for Gertrude. I’m sorry to 
say that I’m ruined, and that through no fault of my own, but 
the machinations of Mr. Perkins, the cashier. I'll leave Ger- 
trude to tell you the rest, when she feels able. All that I have 
to say now is, that I am innocent of the crime of which I have 
been accused, and I only pray that the truth will out some day, 
and convince Mr. Morgan that I have not been the ungrateful 
thief he thinks me. ” 

She was dumb with surprise ; pallor overspread her features, 
and, trembling, she sat down. Irresolute what to^think, she 
addressed a few words of inquiry to her daughter, and then 
went up-stairs, to learn more from her husband. Before she 
returned I took an affectionate leave of Gertrude, and left the 
house, promising to call on the morrow. I left the boarding- 
house that night, for Mr. Johnson, being still in the bank, of 
course knew of the accusation against me, and with melancholy 
feelings I took possession of a room in an hotel, taking care to 
leave my new address at my old home, to avoid an appearance 
of secreting myself. 

All hope of establishing my innocence failed me, and I 
directed my thoughts to my future career in life. My bright 
and joyous anticipation of marrying the woman I loved, which 
had so long turned the world into paradise, and made my 
existence happy, it would be unjust for me any longer to enter- 
tain. It would be wrong for me, disgraced as I was, to accept 
the still willing hand of one who would have nothing but 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


109 


disgrace to reap from the union. No; I was too manly to 
profit by her love for me, to do her a social injury. Better 
for her to endure disappointment, bitter though it might 
be, than gratify feeling at the expense of interest. Yet my 
grief for her was infinitely greater than the sorrow I felt over 
my own misfortune. It required more effort than most men 
could have made, struggling against a strong, deep, ardent at- 
tachment as I was, to reconcile myself to her loss ; but a sense 
of duty came to my aid, and told me that I would best show my 
love for her by tearing myself away. And it cost me agony 
and tears to make the sacrifice. 

I would not even go again to the house in Union Square, as 
I had promised ; I would write instead, and avoid if possible 
inflicting upon her the pain of a parting scene. With glisten- 
ing eyes I sat down and wrote : 

“ Hotel, Thursday Night. 

“ My Dear Gertrude, — It is with a heavy heart that I take 
up the pen to-night. The loss of fortune and of friends is 
nothing to me compared to the loss of you ; and I feel that I 
must bear that loss, however heart-rending it may be. You 
may imagine how much I suffer at the thought ; but, Ger- 
trude, I owe you a duty, and it is a sense of this which compels 
me to give up hope and destroy my own happiness to secure 
your future welfare. I know, dearest, how warmly you share 
the life-long love I feel for you, and it was only a few hours 
ago that you told me, that whether innocent or not your affec- 
tion would remain unchanged, and all the world could not tear 
me from you. But it would be a sad thing for you to marry a 
man discharged from your father’s employ, under the circum- 
stances which transpired to-day. Although your father has 
promised to remain silent as to the cause of my leaving the 
bank, it is only natural to suppose that many of your friends 
will become cognizant of it. They will know nothing of my 
innocence, and of course believe that the accusation against me 
was proved beyond a doubt. Considering that your father 
thinks me guilty, he has shown great forbearance in promising 
not to prosecute ; but if it were not for your sake, and the un- 
pleasant publicity it would create, I should at once insist upon 
a trial, or commence an action for defamation of character 


110 


ADKIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


against my tradncer. Unfortunately the evidence, when sus- 
tained by a lying tongue, is so clear that, notwithstanding my 
innocence, I might be found guilty, for you well know the law 
is not always just, and Wrong often triumphs over Right in its 
decrees. But I will bear the sacrifice, and resign myself to the 
cruel dispensations of fate ; and it may be that remorse will at 
some future time extort a death-bed confession of the truth from 
the lips which have borne false witness against a neighbor. I 
am withered up by this calamity, in the summer of my youth; 
my grief chokes me; and my journey to the grave will cer- 
tainly be shortened by this terrible blow. I do not expect to 
live long ; and without you life will no longer have a charm for 
me. My unsatisfied love for you will kill me. Even now I 
hesitate between hope and despair — the uncertain future and 
sudden death. Ah ! I never thought of that before. But I 
banish it ! suicide is only the refuge of cowards. I will live, 
but God help me ! 

“I will leave the country as soon as possible, probably by 
Saturday’s steamer for Liverpool. I think I shall go to Aus- 
tralia, and commence a new career there. A ray of hope 
flashes across my mind ; I may make a fortune, and you may 
join me there. But how vain! it may never be realized! I 
may die on the gold-fields ; and you — why should I think of 
inflicting upon you such banishment ? No, no ; alas ! it can 
never be. O Gertrude ! dear, if you only knew how my brain 
reels, and how badly I feel for your sake, you would pity me. 

“I have seven hundred dollars saved from my earnings, and 
this, with economy, will enable me to get there ; but I must 
not delay my departure. I do not like to call at the house, 
after what your father said to me ; it might be very unpleasant 
for us both; and under the distressing circumstances of the 
case, you will not fail to understand the feeling of pride and 
delicacy which actuates me. I shall instead look for you in the 
Square, at three in the afternoon. Good-night, dearest. 

“ Your unhappy but loving, 

“ Washington.” 

I was in Union Square at the appointed time, and she came 
out to welcome me, looking pale and sad, but still loving and 
beautiful. 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


Ill 


“ 0 'Washington! how could you write me such a letter?’’ 

“ I felt it to be a duty I owed you to release you from an en- 
gagement which your father has cancelled, and it would be 
your ruin to fulfil. God knows every word I wrote cost me a 
pang.” 

“ I can never give you up, Washington ; you know I can 
never love any one but you ; and if it is only your misfortune 
at the bank that troubles you, there need be no change. 
Wherever you go, I am willing to go.” 

“But, my dear Gertrude, remember that I am unable to 
support you. I can suffer poverty, and fight the battle of life 
alone, but you, accustomed as you are to a life of ease and re- 
finement, would find it far harder. It would be a crime forme 
to take you away from your own elegant home to share the lot 
of one so poor and disgraced as myself.” 

“ I do not consider you disgraced,” she replied, “ I consider 
that Mr. Perkins is the person really disgraced, and I told 
father so this morning. And I would rather have a crust with 
you than a feast away from you. It was cruel of you to say 
you were going to England on Saturday. What should I do 
without you? Promise me that you won’t go,” and she fixed 
her bright blue eyes upon me in eloquent appeal. 

I pressed her hand, and tears welled ap into her eyes. 

“ I’m afraid,” I replied, “that if you cast your lot with 
mine now, you will live to regret it. Not indeed for want of 
any thing I can do to promote your happiness ; I am sure two 
souls were never more closely united than ours are ; but, Ger- 
trude, you don’t calculate the hardships inseparable from po- 
verty, nor the many vicissitudes to which we should be liable. 
1 love you too much not to tell you how deeply you might 
suffer. Besides, think of your duty to your parents. For you 
to elope with a man you are forbidden to marry, would be to 
sacrifice your own reputation, and make them miserable. Such 
a mesalliance would be a source of extreme mortification to 
them, and you would never be forgiven. But wait till I see 
what I can do in Australia, and then ” 

“ I would care nothing for such a loss of reputation as that,” 
she replied. Indeed, “ I don’t know but what I would be rather 
proud of it than otherwise ; the Bible tells me that I may for- 


112 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


sake father and mother, and cleave unto my husband. I 
should break my heart in a month, if you went away and left 
me behind. I know I should.” 

“ Your father,” I said, “has insisted upon my terminating 
all intercourse with his family; but, notwithstanding, I should 
feel perfectly justified in marrying you if my character was 
free from blemish, and I was certain of the means to support 
you.” 

“ I wish I had a fortune in my own right,” she resumed. 
“ Ah ! what a master money is! we are all slaves to it. But 
what made you think of going away so soon ? Why not try to 
refute the accusation of the cashier, and convince father that 
he wronged you ?” 

“ Alas ! both, I am sorry to say, are equally impossible. 
Nothing but a confession of the truth on the part of Mr. Per- 
kins, will ever restore to me my stolen reputation, and that is 
very unlikely ever to occur. If he ever does confess, it will 
be when he is sick and in prison, when he has lost his own re- 
putation beyond the hope of recovery, and remorse strikes ter- 
ror into his stony heart on the brink of eternity.” I 
clenched my teeth in the bitter sense of the injury I had 
suffered. 

Gertrude knew, from what I had said on the previous day, 
that I suspected the cashier of embezzlement, and that his mo- 
tive in accusing me was to cover the pecuniary deficit caused 
by his own guilt. 

“You take too gloomy a view of things,” observed Gertrude 
sadly, and I detected a tear trickling down her cheek. 

“Well, think over what I’ve been saying, my love, and I’ll 
promise not to do any thing you don’t wish.” And so we 
parted with fond and lingering looks, arranging to meet again 
at the same hour and place on the morrow. 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


113 


CHAPTER XVIL 

THE LONG FAREWELL. 

We met. She wore a placid look of resignation, and her 
eyes were less drooping than on the previous day ; but traces 
of sorrow were still visible — alas ! to me but too plainly — in 
that face into which I had gazed so often and so long, as into a 
mirror, seeing there her soul’s reflected light ; for she had one 
of those countenances which indicate transparency of charac- 
ter, and I could read her mind through those jewels of vision, 
which were never bent upon me but in fondness. 

“ Well,” she began, “I lay awake all last night, thinking 
about you.” 

I condoled with her on the loss of her rest. 

“And,” (emotion overcame her, and she wept,) “Washing- 
ton, I’ll do whatever you say is for the best. I’ve had a hard 
struggle, but ” 

I divined her meaning. She would let me go ; but ah ! how 
it wrung her heart to say so. 

We met on the next morning by appointment, at eleven, 
and drove together to the pier at the North River, where lay 
the steamer that was to bear me away at noon. It was a sad 
time for us both, and I bitterly shared with her the grief of 
parting. 

“ Here,” she said, handing me a small package, “ take this, 
but don’t open it till you get to sea. It’s something I want 
you to have with you particularly. And now, mind and write 
me as soon as you arrive, and as often after as you can. I shall 
be dying to hear from you.” 

This promise I was only too glad to give, and I exacted a 
corresponding one in return. Then she sank sobbing into 
my embrace, and 1 tried in vain to calm her. 

“ I would give the world to go with you,” she said, when her 
power of speech returned ; “I don’t think I shall live long 
after you have gone. Why can’t you stay ? Shall I go with 

H 


114 


ADKIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


you? I will if you say so. 0 Washington, my dear! what 
will become of me ?” And again she found relief in tears. 

Even now I hesitated whether to go or stay. 

The pain of parting was almost too much for my endurance. 
But my passage-money was paid, and my baggage already on 
board ; and why go back ? I was ruined in my own land ; 
why, therefore, linger on its shores ? and, as I decided to go, 
the sooner I went the better. The sorrow of separation would 
be just as bitter at any future time, and every week’s delay in 
the work of carving out for myself a new career in another 
clime, would be so much time lost. A sense of duty compelled 
me to stifle inclination, and, for the sake of ultimate good, 
to tear myself away from all that I held dearest on earth. 

We alighted from the carriage at the pier ; and, at her own 
request, she accompanied me on board, and into my state- 
room, where she buried her face in the pillow of my berth, 
and consecrated it with her tears and a fervent prayer for Al- 
mighty protection. Poor girl ! she needed it as much as I did. 
The steamer’s bell rang for the friends of passengers to go 
ashore ; the last broken utterances of breaking hearts, the last 
fond kiss and warm embrace were exchanged, and I escorted 
her, trembling, to the carriage in waiting. 

Another tender farewell and pressure of the hand ; another 
“ good-by, love another burst of grief, a flutter of the hand- 
kerchief, and the parting was over. 

With a heaving breast, and a sense of suffocation, I staggered 
back to the gang- way, which was just being taken in ; and, reach- 
ing the deck, turned my face towards the bay, -and cried bitterly. 

Slowly the vessel moved from the dock. I turned again to 
the shore. The carriage had been drawn up to the end of the 
pier, and a white signal fluttered from its window, to which I 
made answer as the steamer shot past into the stream; and my 
eyes lingered on it with melancholy joy, till it became indis- 
tinct in the distance, and the pier finally disappeared from the 
view. I took a last long lingering look at the fading glories of 
the prospect ; at the bay thickly dotted with vessels, and ferry- 
boats shooting to-and-fro between New York and the various 
points of Staten Island and New Jersey ; at the mouth of the 
Hudson, through which I saw, in fancy, almost as far as the 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


115 


Palisades ; at the great city, with its busy wharves and tall 
church-spires; at the forest of -masts which darkened the East 
Biver, and proclaimed the commerce of the port ; at the frown- 
ing batteries, and the smiling villas on Brooklyn Heights — till 
one and all grew dim and vanished. 

Then I carefully opened the package she had given me, and 
found it to contain, to my surprise, three hundred dollars in 
gold ; and, in addition, a Boman scarf and pin ; her daguerreo- 
type in a locket ; a small, elegantly bound copy of the Bible, 
with clasps, on the fly-leaf of which she had inscribed, “ From 
Gertrude to Washington;” and the following verses, in her own 
hand- writing : 

“ Farewell, and for ever, each bright dream is o’er ; 

We have met — we have loved — but we’ll never meet more. 
The lone heart may weep, but its tears shall be vain : 

Those dear hours of rapture return not again. 

Farewell, and for ever ! 

“ As the streams of Aurora, illumining the night, 

Or the last lingering blushes of evening’s fond light, 

Our hopes were too brilliant, our love was too pure, 

Our joy — for a cold world — too sweet to endure. 

Farewell, and for ever ! 

44 When the soul we adore to its home must return, 

We may still bless the ashes that hallow the urn ; 

But when fond ones are severed, ere dull life be flown, 

Love’s ashes are woe-brooding phantoms alone. 

Farewell, and for ever ! 

4 ‘ Though the winter of age may seem gloomy and dead — 
Since our feelings decline as our summers are shed — 

Yet, ’tis naught to that winter the young heart sustains, 
When each dear wish denied, still each feeling remains. 
Farewell, and for ever! — each bright dream is o’er, 

We have met — we have loved — but we’ll never meet 
more.” 

Why this apparent despair ? My cheek grew blanched, my 
hands cold, and I trembled as I read. We had parted, it 
is true, “ it might be for years, it might be for ever.” But 


116 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


why abandon hope ? All partings are not for ever, nor do all 
part to meet again ; and the uncertainties of life defy calcula 
tion. We part for an hc*ur, it maybe for eternity ; we part for 
years, and yet meet again. Poor girl! she had given way 
to despondency. Another pang ! another spasm of the heart ! 
My eyes seemed bursting from their sockets, and I stood like 
a maniac on the heaving deck, gazing with a wild and vacant 
stare towards the horizon, where sky and ocean met like lovers’ 
lips, to limit the circle of vision. Ah ! that terrible, heart- 
breaking sense of hopelessness and desolation! Were we, in- 
deed, never to meet again ? My mind was a weird phantasma- 
goria of thoughts, which chased each other in bewildering 
confusion. I gasped for breath. 

Gradually I grew calmer; fortitude returned; my thoughts be- 
came less incoherent, and I began to reason. The verses were 
the emanation of a despairing heart, but time, the great healer, 
would revive that drooping spirit ; and from the ashes of buried 
hopes, new ones would arise. The tree of love might yet 
blossom into marriage ; and “ all’s well that ends well.” 

I was rather sorry that she had given me money, but T ac- 
cepted it nevertheless in a proper spirit of gratitude ; deter- 
mined, however, at some time, to return it to her with interest. 
I wore a watch-chain made of her hair, and carried her 
miniature in my pocket ; and I kissed them both in token of 
my heartfelt appreciation of her affectionate forethought and 
goodness ; and deeply and sadly I mourned the misfortune that 
had torn me from her side, and cast me once more adrift on 
the world. But I had still a guiding star to cheer me on ; and 
so long as that remained in view, I should not despair. 

For days, I was so prostrated by heart-sickness, as to be un- 
able to read, write, or even converse. When I spoke it was in 
monosyllables ; and whenever I left my state-room, which was 
seldom, I studiously avoided the society of my fellow-passen- 
gers. I found relief in looking upward at the stars, and down- 
ward into the troubled waters of a stormy ocean ; but man 
could afford me no consolation. As the voyage wore on, how- 
ever, and skies brightened, and winds lulled, I recovered some- 
what from this terrible depression of spirits, and found relief in 
writing to the woman I loved. 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


117 


Then, too, I began to reproach myself for quitting New York 
so abruptly. Had I not been guilty of folly in so doing, 
besides inflicting needless pain upon her? Had the blind 
rashness of youth not converted me into a monster of cruelty ? 
Why, Oh why, did I leave her ? But alas ! too late, too late ! 
My reflections only added to my own misery. 


CHAPTER XV III. 

MY FELLOW-TRAVELLER. 

It was not till within four days of our arrival in the Mersey, 
that I made the acquaintance of a tall, fair-complexioned, 
brown-eyed, delicate-featured young Englishman, of about 
twenty-eight, who wore his hair, which was straight, fine, 
glossy, and longer than the fashion, parted in the middle. His 
epic face attracted me, and I regarded him from the first as a 
superior being to most men. If I had been asked to pick a 
genius out of the crowd on board, I should have selected him 
without a moment’s hesitation ; if a man of cultivation and re- 
finement, the same. This impression only increased as I be- 
came more familiar with him. He was returning from a three 
months’ tour of the United States and British Provinces, to 
take passage by the next Australian steamer calling at the 
Cape. There he proposed to have a little lion-shooting, and 
afterwards proceed to Australia, and from that to India — just to 
see the world, and enjoy sport. 

In the course of conversation he communicated his reasons 
for travelling, and his views of society, in something like the 
following language : 

“I felt a longing for change. I was wearied of London 
drawing-rooms ; wearied of Rotten Row ; wearied of the streets 
and of the people ; wearied of club life ; wearied of public 
amusements and my own idleness. Eor me the Park had lost 
its charm ; and the languid indifference I felt towards society, 


118 


ADBIFT WITH A VENGEANCE; 


made me slow to appreciate even the belles of their first 
season. I walked through a quadrille with the air of a man 
suffering from ennui , and looked upon the opera as a bore only 
to be endured occasionally. 

“ I had even become incapable of enjoying the flower-shows 
at the Botanic Gardens ; but I attended them, because I con- 
sidered they were things to be done just as much as walking or 
riding over to hear the band play in the Kensington Gardens, 
on Tuesdays and Fridays, during the summer ; or going to the 
Royal Academy on the opening day of the exhibition. I was 
tired of small talk, and the formalities of dinner-parties; 
tired of the women who had nothing to say, and of the 
women who had too much to say about nothing ; tired of 
being wedged between two great walls of crinoline at dinner ; 
tired of the powdered and liveried lacquey standing behind my 
chair, who listened to, and doubtless criticised every word I 
said, and kept a strict watch over my knife and fork ; tired of 
the cold formalities of the drawing-room after dinner, and the 
dull stereotyped remarks uttered in my hearing day after day, 
and the irksome conventionalities of life generally. I was be. 
coming thoroughly blase , and looked to travel for relief. I felt 
that I had used up London, and that now London was using up 
me. I was alone in the midst of the crowd. My only real 
companions were my books. I was sick of the cold cynicism 
of some, and the empty frivolity of others ; sick of the despot- 
ism of custom, more potent than law, which threatened the 
entire destruction of whatever individuality I possessed, and 
the effect of which I saw was to convert men into machines ; 
sick of petty social ambition, and the spectacle of poverty 
struggling to keep up false appearances ; sick of the tyranny of 
opinion, of religious cant, and religious intolerance ; sick of 
the tinsel glitter of fashion, of mammas with marriageable 
daughters, always planning the conquest of elder sons, and of 
bachelors always on the look-out for ladies of fortune ; sick of 
the heartlessness of those who feigned friendship, and of the 
pretensions of those who counterfeited aristocracy ; sick of the 
women who kissed each other at one moment, and slandered 
each other the next ; and of the people, and they were many, 
who would flatter to the face and vilify when the back was 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


119 


turned ; sick of the pride which arrogantly asserted itself, and 
of the still greater pride that aped humility ; sick of the dis- 
simulation which passed as a current coin among the leaders 
of haut ton , and of the sham, and the gilt gingerbread by which 
the reputation of so many was sustained ; sick of the worship- 
pers of Mammon, and the sycophants who bent the knee to 
rank and power ; sick of the parasites, who, sacrificing their 
independence, clung tenaciously to their patronizing support- 
ers ; sick of the coquetry of maids, and the intrigues of wives ; 
the blandishments of some, and the deceitfulness of many ; 
sick of the spurious and the base wherever found ; of selfishness 
and ostentatious charity ; of the manners and mannerisms of 
“snobs,” and the illiterateness and affectations of “swells;” 
sick of those who used religion to cloak . their sins, a'nd who 
were merciless towards all backsliders, till found out them- 
selves ; sick of fashionable parsons, who looked upon the 
Church simply as a means of getting a living , and drawled out, 
“ He that hath yahs to yah let him yah,” without any concern 
for the good of souls ; sick of all these sins, vanities, and follies 
of people whose great aim in life was to disguise their real 
character, and assume a fictitious one ; to subvert nature, and 
become as artificial and incapable of strong feeling as possible ; 
to crush and stifle their own healthy human instincts ; to 
dwarf, if not entirely destroy, their own individuality ; to 
ignore the dictates of their own conscience, and to minister 
only to that inglorious trinity, the world, the flesh, and the 
devil. 

“ I knew, that, by leaving England, I would not be escaping 
all these vanities and vices ; for where circumstances corre- 
spond, human nature and human society are pretty much the 
same in spirit, if not in form, all the civilized world over ; but I 
should at least have change of scene, and a wider and newer field 
of observation ; I should be enabled to see nature and human 
nature under more varied aspects, and feel, if possible, a 
larger sympathy with my fellow-men, under all conditions of 
life. I should flourish and luxuriate, instead of vegetate ; and 
learn, if I had not already learned, to regard all countries and 
all creeds impartially. Not, indeed, that I was more preju- 
diced than any of my neighbors, the case was always the 


120 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


reverse ; nor that I was ever bigoted in religious matters, for 
all sects and all religions were ever alike to me ; and I never 
thought the worse of a Hindu, because he was a Brahmin ; or of 
a Scotchman, because he was a Presbyterian ; or of a Welsh- 
man because he was a Methodist ; or of an Irishman because 
he was a Roman Catholic ; or of an Englishman, because he 
was High Church or Low Church ; for liberty of thought and 
action in religious affairs I consider, as I always considered, to 
be one of the divine rights of man, 

“ I had travelled enough in books to have a vague idea of 
everything I was likely to see, wherever I might go ; for I 
had always relieved my graver studies when a boy both at 
school and college, by the eager perusal of voyages and narra- 
tives of explorations and adventure ; and what boy has not a 
relish for mental pabulum such as this ? But that only whetted 
my appetite to learn more. A tour, too, that I had made with 
my father, of Prance, Belgium, Germany, and Switzerland, 
when only twelve years old, had somewhat developed my natu- 
ral desire to see the world. 

“ Most of my friends would have shrunk from the course I 
marked out for myself, and have regarded it as the worst use 
to which they could apply their money and their time ; and we 
all know the proverb, which says, that 4 a rolling stone gathers 
no moss.’ But I looked upon it as a trifle ; as for time, I was 
young ; as for money, I could bear the loss of it. 

44 ‘ Join me in the grand tour,’ said one. I gave a negative 
shake of the head. 

44 ‘ Take a run up the Rhine with us,’ said another. I de- 
clined. No ; there was nothing new and fresh enough for me 
in the Old World ; I would go to the New, where society was 
/ounger, and nature more primeval. I even thought of travel- 
ling beyond the boundaries of civilization, and leading for a 
time the wild life of the aboriginal tribes I might meet 
with, sharing all the risks and hardships of their rude exis- 
tence. 

44 The prospect of a few stirring adventures and hair-breadth 
escapes in any part of the world was decidedly stimulating. It 
would be something new to be 4 stuck up ’ by bush-rangers in 
Australia, or attacked by banditti in Mexico ; to have an en- 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


121 


counter with a grizzly bear in California, or a tiger in Bengal ; 
to be threatened with hari-kari in Japan, or with being cooked 
and eaten in New Zealand. It would be, moreover, exceed- 
ingly interesting to have a conversation with a Hottentot at 
the Cape, and to introduce myself to the gorillas — at a respect- 
ful distance — as a member of the Society for the Prevention of 
Cruelty to Animals, and a firm believer in every thing that 
Baron Munchausen had written about them in his celebrated 
travels in the gorilla country. It would be pleasant to sail up 
the Nile from Cairo to Benisooef, (and be cheated by a drago- 
man, of course) ; to scratch one’s name on the top of the great 
pyramid, (under the false promise, made in consideration oi 
backsheesh, that it would never be scratched out again), and 
then to take a look at the dancing dervishes. A glance at Ni- 
agara Falls would be refreshing, a buffalo-hunt on the prairies 
exciting, and a flirtation with a New York belle delightful — for 
a change. ” 

“You are decidedly cosmopolitan and unconventional in 
your ideas,” I observed. “ It would be well for mankind if all 
had as much individuality as you possess.” 

“ Yes ; perhaps it would, for in proportion to the individ- 
uality of a nation, so has that nation been invariably great and 
powerful ; and without individuality in the atoms you can not 
have it in the mass which those atoms compose ; and without 
some individuality our civilization would die out altogether. 
We have an example of that in the Byzantine Empire.” 

Our acquaintance had progressed so satisfactorily that before 
the vessel reached port he urged me to take passage with him by 
the Australian steamer, instead of a sailing-vessel, as I had ori- 
ginally intended ; and, delighted to have met with so agree- 
able a companion, I agreed to do so. 

My first business after landing was to finish a verjr long let- 
ter to Gertrude, and then mail it at the general post-office, 
with my own hand. It took the form of a diary, and recorded 
thoughts more than incidents, and it breathed, more than I 
had ever dared to breathe to her by word of mouth, the love I 
'bore her. I found that I could be far more eloquent with the 
pen than the tongue, and that absence only fanned the flame 
of that holy, sublime sentiment, which made all the world be- 


122 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


side insignificant in comparison. No conventional attachment 
was ours ; it was the welding together of two hearts — the 
blending together of two souls for life, come weal or woe. 
Courage returned to me, and I nerved myself anew for the bat- 
tle of life. For her sake I would go forth and conquer. I 
needed no stronger bulwark than her love to defend me against 
every assailing wave in my journey over the sea of life. Up, 
then, and to action ! The time for sorrowing was past. God 
helps those who help themselves, and, as Napoleon well said : 
“Heaven is on the side of the strongest artillery.” Despair 
vanished as a gourd before me, and hope once more kindled 
bright visions to allure me onward. I grew sanguine. 

Meanwhile I anxiously awaited a letter from New York, 


CHAPTER XIX. 

MY FIRST INQUIRIES INTO THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 

The great town of Liverpool served only to remind me of the 
bitter past, and the dark, damp days hung heavily upon me 
while I awaited the coming of the steamer which should bear 
me glad tidings from the woman I loved. The docks, with 
their ten miles of spars and rigging, were to my eyes as bleak 
and inhospitable as a forest of naked hickories ; and the mud- 
dy, smoky, and noisy streets as prosaic as the looks of the 
busy toilers who trod them, with thoughts intent upon pig- 
iron, Russian hides, American cotton, and the multifarious 
commodities which are the growth of civilization, and with no 
soul above the counting-house. How I pitied them, poor and 
obscure as I was. 

I began to hate the jingling roar of the lorries, to sicken of 
the murky sky, and to grow disheartened at the non-arrival of 
a letter as the days went by. And when a fortnight had elapsed 
without bringing any tidings from the New World, I became 
apprehensive and despairing. Had she changed, and were 


ADEIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


123 


those lines indeed to be interpreted as a final farewell, or had 
her letter been detained by accident, or could it be that she 
was ill ? I pondered sadly over these thoughts, and many were 
the weary hours I passed in silent meditation. 

While scanning the columns of a local newspaper one morn- 
ing, I read a paragraph making mention of the arrival of a 
spiritual “ medium ” of whom I had before heard, but to whom 
I was entirely unknown, and as his address was given, I went 
to him, not because I had faith in spiritualism, for I knew no- 
thing of it beyond hearsay ; but in order to give it a trial. I 
introduced myself, as I entered his apartment, by saying : “I 
have come to ask you, or rather the spirits, a question.” 

He fixed his eyes upon me for a moment, and said: “You 
have come to ask about a living person in New York.” 

I looked amazed, but said nothing. 

“She’s a young lady with light brown hair, and she’s sick of 
a fever. She’s been so since you left New York. You’ve been 
expecting a letter from her, but she’s not been able to write 
one. The spirits say that person will get better, and that you 
will marry L*r,” 

I was completely dumbfounded by these revelations, and but 
for the foolishness of the question, would have said: “ How do 
you know ?” 

“Have you any more questions to ask the spirits about 
her?” 

“Yes.” I paused to reflect. “What has she been thinking 
about most during her sickuess ?” 

The medium’s hand trembled, and he took up a pencil and 
wrote very rapidly on a slip of paper, Washington. 

“Do you know any thing about that?” he asked. 

“Yes, I understand it,” was my reply, and the old sense of 
suifocation and tears stole over me. 

There, it seemed to me, was proof enough of the presence of 
the supernatural to convince the most incredulous. Can it be 
clairvoyance ? I asked myself. If so, I stood in the presence 
of one who could penetrate my innermost thoughts ; if not, I 
heard footfalls on the boundary of another world. In either 
case, the source of the power which enabled the medium to 
make these disclosures must be to some extent unknown to 


124 


ADKIET WITH A VENGEANCE. 


himself. His own wonderful insight and utterances were per- 
haps almost as much a mystery to him as to me. 

“Think of some one who’s dead,” he said, “ and point with 
a pencil to the letters of the alphabet. When you come to the 
initial of the name, the spirit will answer.” 

I thought of my mother, and took the card-board on which 
these were printed in my hand, and commencing with A, 
touched them one by one in their proper order till I came to Z. 

“ Go over them again.” 

I did so, and the medium listened attentively. 

“ There is no answer,” he said. “Are you sure that person 
is dead ?” 

I candidly informed him that I was not, but was anxious to 
ascertain. 

He clutched my arm, saying as he did so, “I have an im- 
pression that the person you were thinking of is your mother; 
the spirits say she is still living,” and he fixed his eyes upon 
me with a wild, supernatural look. 

I grew pale, and felt a chill of astonishment. 

“ Think of some one else.” 

I thought of my father, and again pointed to the letters of 
the alphabet, but, as before, there was no answer. 

“ That spirit is still on earth,” said the medium. 

“I’d like to ask some questions about that person,” I ob- 
served. 

“The spirits tell me he’s in New York, and you’ll meet him 
unexpectedly. ” 

Again I marvelled. 

I put more questions, but the medium had no more impres- 
sions to communicate. 

“ Think of some one you know to be dead,” said he, “ and 
write down names of places, as many as you like, and among 
them the place where the person died. ” 

I wrote, without allowing him to see what I wrote, about 
twenty names on as many slips of paper, each of which I then 
crushed into a pellet between my fingers, and placed in the 
centre of the table. 

“Now point to the letters.” 

I did so, and at D three raps on the chair denoted the pre- 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


125 


sence of the spirit. The medium pencilled, under inspiration, 
Daniel E. Bedfield , and pushed it towards me. That was the 
name of the man I was thinking about. 

“ Now take up the papers one at a time, and when you 
touch that giving the name of the place where he died, his 
spirit will answer.” 

One by one I lifted and separated them from the rest. As I 
raised the tenth pellet, the three raps were heard, and opening 
it, I read, Brooklyn. There he had died. Suddenly the me- 
dium again seized me spasmodically by the arm. “That 
spirit,” he said, “is standing here behind my chair. He is a 
short, stout man with a moustache, and he says he’ll write his 
initials on my arm.” The description of his appearance was 
correct. “ He died an accidental death,” continued the me- 
dium. It was true ; he was killed by being thrown out of a 
wagon. The medium bared his right arm more than half-way 
to the elbow, and rubbing the inner surface slightly with the 
palm of his left hand, there appeared in bright red letters, very 
much resembling the deceased’s own hand- writing, the letters 
D. E. B. These remained distinct for more than a minute, 
and then gradually faded away like a rainbow in the heavens. 
The medium sank back in his chair with a sigh and look of ex- 
haustion. 

I put the question, “ Are you happy?” to the spirit, and the 
reply traced by the medium’s hand was : “ Yes, I am.” 

The interview terminated with the payment of a fee of five 
shillings sterling ; and I left the house wondering and per- 
plexed, and on the whole convinced that spiritualism was not 
quite the humbug some people would make believe. I am no 
Spiritualist, however, and never shall be. 

My thoughts reverted to Gertrude. She was sick then — • 
poor, darling girl ! I knew now why she had not written, and 
I reproached myself bitterly for being the innocent cause of 
her sufferings. Alas ! how often do we inflict pain upon those 
who love us ! 

I repaired to my room in a dreary Lime Street hotel, and 
wrote another long letter to the woman I adored, telling her 
all that the medium had told me, and asking if what he said 
about herself was correct. In no other way could I account 


126 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


for her silence, and deeply and tenderly I unbosomed myself 
in words of sympathy, of anxiety, of love, of adoration, of sor- 
row, till language could no further express the intensity of my 
emotions. This gave me relief, and I walked with a lighter 
step than I had trod for a week before to the general post- 
office to deposit my own letter. 

The Australian steamer was advertised to leave Plymouth in 
three days from this time, and I had already engaged a passage 
by her, so it would have been imprudent for me to linger 
longer in Liverpool. I left at six o’clock the next morning for 
London, where I met my English friend by appointment, and 
the same evening dined with him at the Athenasum Club. 

It was the last week in May, and the height of the London 
season. The upper ten of England had gathered together in 
the world’s metropolis to exhibit themselves to their friends, 
and dine and wine, and be dined and wined; affd anxious 
mammas with marriageable daughters were actively on the 
look-out for elder sons, who, alas ! were not always to be 
found, and when found, not to be led captive away ; and anxi- 
ous bachelors were equally eager in their search for heiresses, 
who were not always willing to exchange their money for ma- 
trimony ; and people with small means, but, of course, great 
expectations, were struggling to appear as rich as the richest, 
and in order to do so the better, were more liberal in their 
promises to pay than their fulfilment of them warranted ; and 
the spectacle of petty social ambition struggling in the vortex 
of fashionable life, to make itself heard and felt, was to be seen 
in all its miserable glory. But for me there was no time to 
linger, and I was in no mood for it if there had been. 

I left London with my companion on the following morning 
by a Great-Western express-train for Plymouth, and during the 
journey he developed his vocal propensities by singing a song 
jn which I caught the following words a propos of ‘ ‘ the situa- 
tion,’’ as we say of military affairs: 

“ ’Tis a splendid race ! a race against time, 

And a thousand to one we win it. 

Look at those flitting ghosts, 

The white-armed finger-posts ; 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


127 


If we’re moving the eighth of an inch, I say, 

We’re going a mile a minute ! 

The quivering carriages rock and reel, 

Hurrah! for the rush of the grinding steel ! 

The thundering crank and the mighty wheel !" 

“ You’re evidently not very sad about leaving London,” I 
remarked. 

“No,” he replied, “I’m glad. I’m sick of London; sick 
of England ; disgusted with finding nothing new in the Old 
World and nothing old in the New; tired of the sham of so- 
ciety, the pretence of piety, the affectation of superiority, the 
— heigh ho ! 4 a mad world, my masters !’ Ah ! London is a 
queer place — a gulf a man may soon lose himself in. I never 
liked it, but I was always fond of studying it inside and out, 
and it’s a splendid school for the student of sociology, I can 
tell you.” 

I expressed a desire to see it when gay with the decorations 
of Christmas. 

“ Ah ! that reminds me of the morning I left for America. 
The sky was gray and the air was frosty, and the scanty herb- 
age in Hyde Park, as I passed, was covered with rime glitter- 
ing in the faint sunshine. The city was odorous of prize beef 
and mutton, and fat geese ; and the largest turkeys in the 
country lay dead on the poulterers’ stalls. It was Christmas 
week, and the people of all conditions were busily preparing 
and providing for the great day of the year in England. The 
grocers’ shops were showily decorated with fancy boxes of 
French plums, and confectionery, and Smyrna figs, and Ma- 
laga raisins, and sticks of Ceylon cinnamon, and heaps of can- 
died lemon, and samples of Patras currants, suggestive of 
plum-pudding and mince-pies — the whole tastefully ornamented 
with evergreens; and the street-boys flattened their noses 
against the windows, and gazed in silent admiration and hun- 
gry longing upon the inviting show, only regretting that a 
pane of glass and the presence of the shopmen prevented them 
from helping themselves. The butchers’ shops were hung with 
colossal sides of beef, heavy saddles of mutton, and ridiculously 
fat pork, into all of which sprigs of holly were stuck jauntily ; 


128 


ADKIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


and those who had seen the fatted animals, of which these were 
the mortal remains, on the verge of apoplexy a few days pre- 
viously at the cattle-show, the pigs blinded by their own ex- 
cess of flesh, could now see them cold and ticketed in death, 
awaiting the inevitable fate of chops and sirloins. 

“ The churches and chapels were being decorated with ever- 
greens by young ladies of their respective congregations, who 
were admirers of the clergymen officiating, and those of the 
latter who were too old or too ugly or too unattractive and un- 
interesting to have any young lady admirers were left to do the 
same work at tlieir own expense. In either case it was being 
done, and on Christmas day the clocks would be wreathed with 
green leaves, and their whole interiors more or less festooned 
with clustering and glossy foliage — with holly, with mistletoe, 
and with laurel. 

“It was the carnival of children, for toys and sweetmeats 
and picture-books and pocket-money and Christmas-boxes 
generally came to them in abundance, and the theatres were 
performing pantomimes for their special delectation. It was 
the carnival, too, of domestic servants, who were receiving 
presents, under the black-mail system, from the tradesmen all 
round, in consideration, of course, of overlooking any imper- 
fections in the articles supplied, and saying that black was 
white whenever a question arose to the contrary. 

“ The faces of. the rich and well-to-do looked bright and 
happy, and there was an air of cheerfulness pervading the 
streets. But in the holes and corners of the city, where lay 
the squalid homes of those steeped in penury and bent down 
with hunger and wretchedness, there was a dismal contrast. 
To many thousands of the London poor, Christmas had no 
charm, for they had no friends to make them presents, no 
money wherewith to buy the necessaries, much less the luxu- 
ries of life. From the homes of the wealthy to the homes of 
the destitute it was often only a step, but that step, led into 
another world.” 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


129 


CHAPTER XX. 

MR. REGINA LD WADE’S TJNCLE. 

“Do yon know, Edmonds,” said Reginald Wade to me on 
the morning after onr arrival at Plymouth, “You remind me 
of my uncle, who dined with us at the Athenaeum Club, and, 
last night, hang it if I didn’t dream he was your father, and 
that there was the deuce to pay between you and him, and 
your mother and a host of other people. I had just got into 
the midst of the nicest family plot you can imagine, when I 
awoke. I thought I’d mention it — it was so very strange. I 
can only account for it by remembering that you impressed 
me when I saw you together as being very much alike.” 

“Indeed,” I replied, affecting a want of interest, but feeling 
a good deal notwithstanding, “ What wild children of an im- 
possible realm dreams are ! Now, however, that you speak of 
it, I think there is a general resemblance between us, but just 
as there’s no accounting for tastes there’s often no accounting 
for looks.” 

“ He’s a clever fellow,” continued Mr. Wade. “ What capi- 
tal stories those were he told about his experiences among 
your countrymen. He visited America with his wife a long 
time ago, and he seems to know as much of the country as any 
Yankee.” 

I never forgot this conversation, although at the time I al- 
lowed it to drop without asking any questions. 

I thought of Kate Wilkins’ description of the gentleman — 
“William Edmonds” — who first introduced me to her in the 
road leading to her rural home, and tried to detect a resemb- 
lance between that and the uncle of Mr. Wade. But why? 
There were millions of thin, dark complexioned men of me- 
dium height, with penetrating eyes, in the world, who shaved 
and were about thirty when the memorable interview took 
place between Kate Wilkins and the mysterious William Ed- 
monds. This man was apparently about fifty, but appear- 
ances are sometimes deceptive in matters of age as well as in 
others, and his name was not Edmonds. 


i 


130 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


I felt a momentary wish to cross-examine him in relation to 
his American experiences after what Mr. Wade had told me, 
but the chances were a hundred millions to one against his 
being anything more to me than any other casual acquaint- 
ance I had ever met, and there was too much improbability 
about any supposition to the contrary for the subject to en- 
gage my serious attention long. So I dismissed it accordingly, 
just as I would the recital of any other dream, for in dreams I 
had no faith. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

ONCE MORE ON THE DEEP. 

With a heavy Heart, I took up my pen in Plymouth to indite 
my last letter to Gertrude, before embarking for the golden 
shore. I was writing an epistle to which I could not hope to 
receive an answer for many months to come, even if all went 
well. Till I reached Melbourne I had now no prospect of hear- 
ing from New York, and meanwhile what changes might not 
occur ! If I could only have felt sure that the prophecy of the 
medium was a true one respecting our meeting again, I should 
have been happy. But I was without faith enough for that ; 
and, marvellous as the revelations of the man had seemed, I 
entertained a suspicion that with regard to future events he — 
like the report of a “contraband” in war time — might prove 
any thing but reliable. I therefore placed my trust in Provi- 
dence, the great refuge of all, and embarked. 

From our entrance into the Bay of Biscay till we left it far 
behind, we experienced a succession of heavy gales, and a tre- 
mendous sea, which rose like mountain-peaks around us, wild, 
terrible, and grand, sweeping our decks at intervals, tearing 
away a part of our bulwarks, and staving in our boats, confin- 
ing the passengers to their cabins, prostrate, comfortless, and 
in some cases indifferent even to life itself. To add to the dis- 
comforts and perils of our situation, the ship was very deeply 
laden, and in bad trim. She was, moreover, slow to answer 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


131 


her helm, and her engines frequently broke down, while she 
was leaking so fast that men had to be kept constantly at the 
pumps. 

It was blowing a hurricane from the north-west, on our 
second night out, and the vessel lay in the trough of the tre- 
mendous sea, which was then running and rolling us almost 
dizzy. The main-topsail was carried away about midnight, 
and a number of casks of oil and water broke loose on the main 
deck, and were dashed to pieces. 

It was on the third night that our foretopmast, maintop-gal- 
lant-mast, bowsprit, and jibboom were carried away, and the 
mainsail split, and then succeeded a wild flapping of rent can- 
vas in the galer, a series of hoarse commands on deck, the shrill 
pipe of the boatswain’s whistle, and the heigh-hi-ho of the 
crew as they commenced the work of clearing away the wreck, 
some of which becoming entangled with the screw, made our 
steam useless. The cry of “Man overboard!” was heard 
through the storm, about an hour after this, but nothing could 
be done for him, and he perished beneath the foam. It was 
not till sun-down, on the following day, hat the wreck was 
cut clear of the screw and rudder, and meanwhile the ship lay 
like a log, pitched about by every wave, and rolling fearfully, 
with the sea often making a complete breach over her, and 
flooding the cabins and engine-room. 

The hurricane, after a slight lull, increased to its former 
violence, and the mizzen-topsail and cross-jack were blown 
from the gaskets, while a sea that struck the starboard-bow 
carried away the starboard-rail, split the covering- board, and 
swept the decks. After this the reefed mainsail was blown 
away, leaving us with only the maintopmast stay-sail bent. 
Men and women began to despair of ever reaching the pro- 
mised land ; and the captain, who was a very religious man, 
and a Baptist, summoned all the passengers to prayer, in the 
main saloon, and actually terrified them more than the storm 
by exhorting them to prepare for death, and giving a graphic 
picture, drawn from his own imagination, of their future, if 
they neglected his warning. The weak and nervous listened 
and trembled, or if they had the necessary courage, retired 
to the privacy of their own cabins, to live or die in peace. 


132 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


44 Weil, how did you pass the night?” was my morning in- 
quiry of Mr. Reginald Wade — that was my companion’s name. 

44 I passed it,” he replied, 44 in the practice of the movement 
cure, but I don’t feel any the better for it. I had a dream, too, 
which, in the language of Byron — ahem ! was not all a 
dream. I imagined that all the movables in all the state- 
rooms had gone dancing mad ; that bonnet-boxes were flying 
forward and back with heavy trunks, and that walking-canes 
were crossing over with meerschaum pipes ; that ladies’ work- 
boxes were promenading with gentlemen’s writing-desks, and 
that carpet-bags went right and left with empty bottles — a 
change of partners and chassee occurring at frequent intervals, 
and all to the music of a tremendous storm, and the occasional 
crash of crockery.” 

It was not uncommon about this time to see a steward and 
a soup-tureen capsized together on their passage from the 
galley to the cabin ; to see meats and vegetables performing 
eccentric gyrations between the dishes and the floor, generally 
alighting in some one’s lap in the descent. Everything break- 
able had to be tightly secured, but, notwithstanding every or- 
dinary precaution, the amount of property belonging to the 
steward’s pantry that came to grief every day, without produc- 
ing any visible effect upon the appearance of the breakfast and 
dinner-ta£>le, seemed to argue that the supply of breakfast, din- 
ner and tea services at the command of that indispensable 
functionary was as inexhaustible as the stock of liquors in the 
magic bottle of a wizard. 

When the weather calmed there was a general gathering of 
the passengers on deck, and it was refreshing to see how those 
who had been cooped in their cabins day after day enjoyed 
their first breath of fresh air under a clear sky. >It was about 
this time that a general tendency towards flirtation was mani- 
fested by the single and the widowed among the passengers of 
both sexes, and billing and cooing — excuse the phrase — became 
their chosen pastime for the rest of the voyage. They paired 
off like birds in the Spring, and became severally subjects of 
gossip over the ship, for people had nothing to do but gossip, 
and the more the pity. They walked the decks together, sat 
together hour after hour, whenever the weather permitted, 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


133 


played draughts together, sat together at the cabin-table, read 
to each other, and were considered to be “engaged” without 
doubt. The four hundred souls on board presented an epitome 
of the world, and, as on all long voyages, a fine opportunity 
was thus afforded for the study of character. People showed 
themselves in their true colors, and the result was not always 
to their advantage. 

It was not until the evening of our twentieth day at sea that 
we entered the harbor of Porto Grande, in the island of St. 
Vincent, of the Cape de Verde group — our first coaling-station. 
The prospect was rocky, arid, and uninviting, and I did not 
regret our departure on the day following. But the skies were 
bright, the sun-sets glorious, and the temperature deliciously 
warm. With the thermometer at from eighty-five to ninety 
in the cabin, and the glow of the tropics around us, our hearts 
became as light as our clothing, and some entertained serious 
intentions of jumping over-board, and taking a good, long 
shark-like swim after the ship — a cool but perilous bath. Mr. 
Leander Jones was the first to propose the experiment, and 
Mr. Byron Smith offered to follow his example. Accordingly, 
those two gentlemen were one afternoon to be seen swimming 
alongside, in tow of the ship, but being apprehensive of bites 
from sharks and barracoutas, they did not repeat their excur- 
sion. And so the weary voyage sped. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

SCENES AND REFLECTIONS BY THE WAY. 

Many were the days of dejection and nights of sadness I 
passed as the voyage wore on, and often I gave way to uncon- 
trollable outbursts of grief. Again and again I reproached 
myself for having left New York. Why had I torn myself from 
the side of my guardian angel ? 

“Why, oh! why, my dear, devoted Gertrude, did I leave 
you ?” I would soliloquize. “ Why did I not stand my ground 


134 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


and brave it out to the bitter end, instead of trying to better 
matters by flying to the ends of the earth, hoping to win 
fortune in a new sphere ? Why did I not try to bring convic- 
tion to my guilty accuser — the mean and cowardly cashier in 
Mr. Morgans bank— and so establish my own innocence?” 

Alas ! I bitterly regretted the separation, and these thoughts 
harrowed me deeply. 

But, on the other hand, Hope told a flattering tale and recon- 
ciled me oftentimes to my lot, cruel as it seemed. I would 
achieve wealth in Australia, vindicate myself in New York, and 
y es — oh ! yes — marry my beloved Gertrude, the idol of my 
existence, upon whom I had unwillingly inflicted so much 
wretchedness — the very thought of which made me shudder so 
much that Reginald Wade, when he broke in upon me some- 
times in my state-room or on deck, would eye me with a sus- 
picious look of surprise, and say : 

“ What’s the matter, Edmonds, old fellow ? What the mis- 
chief are you looking so glum about ; thinking of the girl you 
left behind you, eh? Cheer up, my boy, there’s nothing 
gained by grieving. Look at me ; see how jolly I am ! I 
bury my woes and fears like a philosopher. Let us laugh and 
be merry, for to-morrow we die.” 

As we crossed the line, children and ignoramuses were sum- 
moned on deck by individuals anxious to make something like 
“April fools” of them, who, pointing ahead, asked them if 
they saw it. Saw what ? Saw the line — a long, black streak. 
Yes, they saw the horizon. Well, that was it. Their delusion 
was soon afterwards dissipated by an extension of their not 
very extensive geographical knowledge, and they laughed at 
the joke, and some at their own ignorance. At nightfall 
Neptune, in an indescribable costume of tar and feathers, 
cocked hat, red and yellow ochre, and iron hoop, the latter 
meant for a sword, came on board, attended by his satellites, 
who were all monsters of strange aspect and attire, and levied 
black mail upon the passengers, after which there were innu- 
merable hornpipes on the forward deck, sandwiched with 
the songs, drinks, and other morceaux , congenial to the 
nautical palate, the whole conveying the idea that Neptune 
and Company were in the best possible spirits, and en- 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


135 


joying their entertainment amazingly. At mid-night the 
aquatic visitors took their departure, and it is to be hoped 
sought seasonable refreshment in their submarine caves. 

For two days after this we steamed slowly on, in the midst 
of a perfect calm — a sublime stillness. As far as the eye could 
reach, the glassy deep reposed, unagitated even by a ripple, 
while the fierce rays of a vertical sun shone down in lustrous 
splendor, making it glisten like molten gold. The feather-vane 
hung motionless upon its staff, the decks were burning to the 
feet, and the pitch oozed and boiled out of the seams ; tar- 
drops fell from the almost cindered rigging, and the masts and 
booms gaped thirstily through huge cracks. 

At sun-set the clouds, hitherto unseen, began to form in 
magnificent array, and assumed the richest dyes and most 
brilliant hues in the livery of heaven, which, reflected from 
their azure thrones, bathed the stagnant ocean in shadows of 
purple and gold, while all space became suffused with a per- 
vading grandeur of coloring and of light. The eye wandered 
from zenith to horizon, watching the changing glory of the 
scene, and dazzled by the effulgence which flashed, and flash- 
ed again with a grand intensity of light, through crimson vis- 
tas of mountain-like clouds, permeating the entire sky, and 
diffusing the most delicate tints that ever beautified creation. 
With the setting of the sun, far above and around us, these 
gorgeous and fantastic forms — the colossal architecture of the 
heavens — rapidly crumbled into ruins. Bold and rugged pro- 
montories and outstretching capes now diversified the scenery 
of a picturesque coast, indented here and there with bays and 
creeks, and bordered with groups of islands, standing in the 
sea-like blue of the open sky. A few moments later and silvery 
lakes appeared, studded with wooded isles, overshadowed by 
the hills of the adjoining mainland, to the right of which could 
be seen broad, sloping savannahs and umbrageous woods. 
These airy landscapes wore the semblance of reality, and every 
hill and valley shone with wonderful distinctness. The -whole 
spectacle was like a beautiful vision. Gradually, with faded 
lustre, the outlines of these landscapes and castles in the air 
became more and more indistinct ; and a little later the shroud 
of darkness enveloped the scene, while one by one the stars 


136 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


shone like heavenly beacons through the void, and it was 
night. 

Sixteen days after leaving St. Vincent we sighted far away 
and dim in the distance the sterile and solitary island of As- 
cension. It seemed, as we drew nearer, to be a mass of vol- 
canic rock, broken into peaks, as if undergoing decomposition 
and destitute of vegetation, except on one of the topmost sum- 
mits, known as the Green Mountain, which rose two thousand 
eight hundred and seventy feet above the sea. The rugged and 
desolate aspect of the spot may be easily imagined when I 
say, that it consists of huge masses of rock, irregularly piled 
on one another, and set in a low frame of lava rock, broken by 
yawning fissures and ravines. 

At length, and on our fifty-first day at sea, we sighted the 
bold and mountainous coast rising abruptly from the sea, be- 
tween Table Bay and the Cape of Good Hope. Mountain 
steeps, composed of dark, reddish, gray sandstone, with ledges 
and beds of rock, barren of vegetation, excepting at their base, 
and crowned by rugged and craggy peaks, formed any thing 
but an inviting prospect ; but it was a relief to the eye, wear- 
ied of the monotony of the ocean. As we neared the shore, I 
can well remember how the noon-day light shone gloriously 
down upon the crags and projections, whose brightness threw 
into dark shade the neighboring indentations ; while below, a 
long line of foam marked the surf- worn shore. As we sailed 
abreast of the Lion’s Head, to the right of Table Mountain, 
and bounding the bay on the south-west, a pleasant change 
came over the scene, and houses, gardens, and* plantations 
were neither few nor far between. Advancing into the neck 
of the bay, the picturesque mountains of Hottentot’s Holland, 
and Stellenbosch, became visible, far away in the background ; 
while long ranges of sand-hills followed the coast to the north- 
ward. 

Neat whitewashed villas smiled along the foot of the moun- 
tains, towards Green Point'; and heavy batteries frowned upon 
the prospect. The^extensive African city, with its flat-roofed 
houses, looked quaint and aboriginal ; the church-spires stood 
out in bold relief ; the two jetties, where barges and small ves- 
sels were loading and discharging their cargoes, stretched their 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


137 


long arms seawards from the shore ; and a large commercial 
fleet rose like a forest from the bosom of the bay. In the im- 
mediate background, and between two huge mountain sugar- 
loaves, the Table Mountain towered thirty-five hundred and 
eighty feet above the level of the ocean. 

Here, then, was the land of the Caffre, the Bosjesman, and 
the gorilla. 

“Now, Edmonds, you’d better make up your mind to cut 
your journey short here. You’ll never have another such 
chance of making a fortune out of elephants’ tusks and lion 
skins,” said Mr. Wade, renewing an invitation to join him in a 
hunting tour, which I had thus far declined. 

“Well, I’ll see,” was my reply; by which the reader will 
perceive that I was not in a very decided frame of mind on the 
subject, and that more unlikely things might happen than my 
seeking sport and profit, and perhaps ultimate renown as a 
lion-hunter and gorilla-slayer — 

“Away, away from the dwellings of men, 

By the antelope’s haunt and the buffalo’s glen ; 

By valleys remote, where the ourebi plays, 

Where the gnoo, the sassaybe, and hartebeest graze, 
And the eland and gemsbok unhunted recline, 

By the skirts of gray forests o’erhung with wild vine ; 
Where the elephant browses at peace in his wood, 

And the river-horse gambols unscared in the flood, 

And the mighty rhinoceros wallows at will 
In the pool 'where the wild ass is drinking his fill ; 

O’er the brown karroo, where the bleating cry 
Of the springbok’s fawn sounds plaintively ; 

Where the zebra wantonly tosses his mane, 

As he scours with his troop o’er the desolate plain.” 

I was impatient to reach Melbourne, in my anxiety to hear 
from Gertrude ; but I reflected that, in all probability, no 
letter would reach the golden land from her for months to 
come ; and as there was a line of steamers running between 
Australia and the Cape, and other opportunities of sailing fre- 
quently, I reluctantly yielded to the solicitations of my com- 
panion to join him in a short hunting expedition, and sold my 


138 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


berth in the steamer at a premium, to an expectant gold- 
miner. 

“ I’m glad you’ve decided to remain,” said Mr. Wade ; 
“and you’ll not regret it, I can tell you. I’ll provide the wea- 
pons, foot the bills, as they say in your country, and make you 
a dead shot in three weeks.” 

One fine morning, less than a fortnight after this, we left 
Cape Town on a pair of rough, shaggy Cape horses. They 
were about fourteen hands high, ewe-necked and goose-hammed, 
and moved along at an ambling pace ; but their legs were all 
right, and their eyes clear and bright. We took with us a 
pack of curs, and a bushman to take care of them, and act as 
guide. He was as decidedly ugly as mortal man could be, 
without being deformed, and only four feet high. His face, at 
first sight, appeared to be all mouth and cheek-bones, so large 
and thick were his lips, and so immense the bones as compared 
with the thin hollow cheeks. But upon examining him closely, 
I saw his nose. I could hardly call it a projection, it was so 
subordinate to his mouth; but this deficiency was indirectly 
made up for by the great width of his open nostrils. His eye- 
balls were so deeply sunk in their sockets, that, when I looked 
at his profile only, they were invisible. His forehead was low 
and shelving, his complexion two or three shades removed 
from black, and the expression of his countenance simply 
awful. His face was hairless, and his head covered with a 
number of tight woolly knots, separated by small patches of 
bare black skin. 

We passed the first six nights at homesteads, and on the next 
morning struck straight into the bush. The curs were kept 
yelping all the time by the porcupines, the jackals, and long- 
tailed apes, that we saw ; and these last fled before us by 
thousands, filling the air as they went with sounds of indigna- 
tion and surprise. The jungle was almost impenetrable ; but 
as we wore “crackers,” we felt little of the thorns that would 
otherwise have pierced us. Suddenly our fifty curs were all 
brought to bay, at the same point, a sure sign of sport. 
Looking before us, we saw an opening in the bush, leading to 
a grassy patch of ground, where the dogs were all collected 
round the one tree. A glance upwards revealed the glossy 


ADKIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


139 


and spotted coat of a leopard, that, half in anger, half in fear, 
was peering over one of the boughs at the excited pack below. 
But no sooner had he caught sight of us, than he drew back 
his head, and, almost simultaneously, I cried to my com* 
panion, “Get closer to the tree, and fire!” “ Keep out of his 
spring, ” said he ; and raising his rifle, he aimed steadily and 
fired. The next moment the forest resounded with a terrific 
roar of pain, and the animal leapt forward for a spring. Just 
then a shot from my own barrel pierced his brain, and, with a 
heavy groan, he rolled dead at our feet. Our bushman did not 
take long to strip him of his skin ; and the curs, true to their 
cowardly instinct, attacked and bit his carcass with fierce 
voracity. 

At dusk, we prepared to camp out in the wilderness, by 
erecting the small tent that we carried with us. 

The night was splendid. We had a sky of deep dark blue, 
with the moon shining luminously through it ; and the stars, 
in lesser glory, all bright, clear, and distinct, and in their 
midst, that beautiful constellation, the Southern Cross. A 
sublime stillness reigned around. I saw, in the distance, the 
lofty mountains rearing heavenwards their rugged crowns? 
while below their sweeping sides were belted by the primeval 
forest. Our solitary fire lighted up with an unnatural radiance 
the dark foliage on one side of our camp, where we alone dis- 
turbed the solitude of the scene. Weariness overcame us, 
and we lay down to sleep — I in the tent, and my companion, 
enveloped in his skins, outside, in preference ; while the bush- 
man lay down with the dogs a hundred yards away. 

But in the midst of all the novelty of my surroundings my 
thoughts reverted to Gertrude ! — Gertrude the beautiful, the 
true — the darling of my poor broken heart, for broken I felt it 
to be, although the tenement of clay which held it still lived on 
and battled with the world as before, showing little or no sign 
of the ruin, the desolation and the anguish within. 


140 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

A STARTLING EPISODE. 

During the night I wandered in dreamland. Suddenly I 
seemed to awake with a start. Why, I was perplexed to dis- 
cover ; but while I was endeavoring to ascertain the cause, 
I received a blow on the head, through the side of the tent, 
as if struck by a heavy piece of wood, or an iron crowbar. 
For a moment I was apprehensive of amattack by natives, but 
the next instant a terrible idea flashed across my mind. A 
lion was sniffing at me ! I shall never forget the sensations 
that came over me just then. The terrors of death assailed 
me, and I struggled against them ; but only to find how weak 
and helpless I really was. You will say I was not lion-hearted. 
No. But it was the shock of surprise that paralyzed me. Had 
I been prepared in open day to meet a lion, it would have been 
sport. As it was, it seemed inevitable death. Seconds elapsed; 
they were like hours, and with them I collected my scattered 
senses, and summoned courage to my aid. Meanwhile I had 
remained perfectly still, and almost powerless. If, I began to 
calculate, I remained where I was without moving, there was a 
probability of the beast tearing up the tent, and dragging me 
through; while, on the other hand, an attempt to move away 
would, in all likelihood, be detected, and the lion, acting simi- 
larly to the cat under such circumstances, would spring upon 
and carry me off. I felt all the torments of the most dreadful 
suspense, and prayed to heaven for deliverance. While I was 
thus hesitating as to what course it would be best for me to 
pursue, the animal appeared to turn away ; for after what was 
only a few moments, but which seemed a long time, during 
which I trembled with agitation, and suffered an agony of 
apprehension, there was a loud shriek, that immediately 
died away, and was followed by a deep, low growl ; then 
a shot, and a still louder and more angry growl. Upon 
this, I almost instinctively felt about for my revolver, 
which I had, I then remembered, placed near my head before 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


141 


going to sleep. With this I rose, and creeping round the tent, 
I saw the threatening beast standing perfectly motionless, 
with glaring eyes, uttering the same subdued but deep and 
ominous growl; and to my intense horror, holding in his 
mouth the body of a man, which he occasionally lowered to the 
ground, as if for the purpose of taking a firmer hold, but at 
no time letting it slip entirely from his jaws. I saw, by the 
direction of his look, that he had caught sight of me ; and so 
terrible were the associations of a lion that rushed upon me at 
the moment, that I stood almost fascinated, and incapable of 
action. Singularly enough, although I remained stationary, 
he did not change his posture. 

Suddenly, guided by the instinct of self-preservation, I raised 
my weapon and fired. I hit him, I think, just behind the 
shoulder, but he only gave a loud growl, without changing his 
position. 

Again I fired, and with fatal effect ; for the lion rolled over 
on his side, with a fearful, broken, and wail-like roar, but with- 
out relaxing his hold of the body, which was evidently that of 
my companion. I now approached the lion, and found his 
teeth sunk deep into the back and chest of his victim, and the 
jaws holding the dead body as tightly as in a vice. The bush- 
man at this moment, like an imp in the darkness, darted 
towards me. He said that he had just awoke, but more likely 
he had been up a tree, where no lion could follow. The curs, 
which had commenced barking vigorously when the shots were 
fired, now cautiously approached the dead lion, and sniffed at 
the corpse as if they fully comprehended the misfortune that 
had befallen their late master. 

The lion was evidently quite dead, but the united efforts of 
the bushman and myself were insufficient to remove the body 
from between his teeth. The features were distinctly recog- 
nizable ; but they wore a horrid, ghastly expression, full of 
fear and dismay, and I turned sick and fainting from the sight. 

Soon we renewed our exertions to drag the body 
from the lion's mouth, but in vain ; and I saw that the only 
way for us to release it was by cutting, and we accordingly 
commenced the task ; but only having bowie-knives to work 
with, we were unable to acccomplish it ; and, finally, I decided 


142 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


to bury the lion and his victim in the one hole. Whereupon 
the bushman skinned the animal, whose flesh the hungry curs 
soon devoured, leaving only the skeleton, with the jaws still 
tightly locked on the dead body of my friend. 

I was in the act of repeating as much of the burial-service as 
I could remember, over his grave, when the curs recommenced 
barking ; and before I had time to profit by the warning, a 
lioness sprang towards me, and the next instant her head 
struck me full in the side, and sent me reeling like a body hit 
by the buffer of a locomotive running at half-speed. 

At this crisis I started from a heavy sleep, trembling with 
fright, and, to my great joy, found myself still stretched on 
my blanket in the tent. I looked around through the gray 
light of the dawn for my companion, and I saw him. Then 
calling to him loudly, and clutching nervously at his body, I 
gasped out that I had just awoke from a terrible dream. I did 
this more to satisfy myself that I was in my waking senses 
than aught else, for so real had every thing appeared to my 
distempered imagination that minutes elapsed before I could 
fully distinguish between the things of the dream and those of 
fact, and as the impression was made upon me, so have I 
written. A painful sense of confusion oppressed me, and I 
could hardly believe the sound of my own voice. I had a dull 
headache and a leaden feeling about the heart. 

“ Was it you that gave that shriek?” asked my companion, 
raising his head with a startled look. 

A dim recollection of having heard the sound of my own 
voice at the instant of awaking stole over me, and I asked ; 
“ Did I shout ?” 

“I should think you did,” and he sank back again to 
finish his sleep, but for me there was no such balm that morn- 
ing. 

I rose unrefreshed and with a vague dread of impending 
evil, for I believed in coming events casting their shadows 
before. 

How I wished myself back in New York, with Gertrude — the 
lovely and devoted heroine of my life’s romance — restored to 
me, I can well remember, and I devoutly prayed to the Al- 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


143 


mighty for her and for my own safe return to her side, as — 
while tears welled up to my eyes — I had often prayed before, 
with a heart full of bitter regrets, and an eager yearning to 
vindicate myself before her father, and even yet claim her as 
my bride — dark, desolate, and almost hopeless though the pros- 
pect seemed. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

I AM LIONIZED. 

Wade and I rode together that day with the bushman, and 
met some Caffres, armed with shields and assagais, who told 
us they had seen a lion, and we were not long in finding his 
spoor, which we followed up three or four miles, the Caffres 
accompanying us, when the animal broke cover. Our first 
view of him was on an open plain, partially environed by a 
thorn thicket, from which he had just emerged. Eor a few 
moments, after running forward, he halted, and raising his 
massive face, eyed us with a fiery glance, simultaneously with 
which a troop of jackals beat a hasty retreat from the same 
thicket across the plain to the left. Then, having apparently 
decided that prudence was the better part of valor, he turned 
round and cantered off to the right, with his tail projecting and 
bent. 

Wade, calling upon me and the Caffres to follow, put 
spurs to his horse and started in hot pursuit, gaining upon the 
lion so fast that the latter suddenly came to a full stop by 
squatting on his haunches with his back towards us, a pro- 
ceeding which placed Wade in great danger of galloping over 
him. Then springing to his feet, he turned about face and 
began to wag his tail rather ominously I thought, accompany- 
ing the movement with a deep, loud growl, which put me in 
mind of the tones of an organ heard during the swinging of the 
censer. Towards myself in particular he cast a very inquisi- 
tive glance, and I had a suspicion that he was about selecting 
me as the most vulnerable point of attack, and that if he 


144 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


really did so he would have in all probability an easy victory, 
so far as I was concerned. In order the better to fortify my- 
self, therefore, and in preference to trusting to the speed of 
my horse in the event of a charge, 1 cautiously dismounted 
near a tree, rifle in hand, and stood there ready to climb it 
whenever danger threatened. This strictly defensive measure 
was attended with some little trepidation but complete suc- 
cess, all but the climbing, and the time for that had not yet 
come, as the lion, instead of charging me, was obliging enough 
to stretch his arms and lie down, meanwhile observing me with 
the interest of a naturalist watching the movements of some- 
thing he wanted to catch. At a signal from Wade, who was 
dismounted on the other side of the lion and considerably 
nearer than myself, I and the bushman drew our rifles from 
their holsters and put the caps on. At this, the reputed mon- 
arch of the forest manifested symptoms of uneasiness and sat 
up like a poodle seen through a magnifying lens. Having ex- 
amined me again with a critical eye, as a painter might do a 
model, he cast a look behind, ^no doubt guided by a wise fore- 
sight which suggested the propriety of keeping open a line of 
retreat in case of a reverse — an example which I considered 
equal to three years’ instruction in military tactics at West 
Point. The next instant, finding the field clear, he made a 
short run towards us, uttering long, deep, angry growls. 
Wade, leading his horse, crossed over to our side at this junc- 
ture, and then, with a view of getting a broadside shot, we led 
the horses forward as if we intended to pass him, but the feint 
did not succeed, as the lion, with admirable sagacity, moved 
as we moved, so as to present his full front all the time. 

And now the critical moment and the lion approached to- 
gether. He was wichin fifty yards and still advancing, when 
we turned the horses’ heads away, and Wade, throwing his rifle 
to his shoulder, fired. There was a sharp crack, a puff of 
smoke, and a chorus of yells from the Caffres as the lion 
charged, and down I went like a man struck by a sledge-ham- 
mer, and one of the horses with me. Here was something 
like a verification of my dream with a vengeance. That dream 
was a proj)hecy. 

To be knocked over by a lion, and then escape to tell the 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


145 


tal9, is an event which occurs to very few, and one not likely 
to happen to a man twice in his life. Therefore I look back 
upon the incident with a feeling of pride, not unmixed, how- 
ever, with a thrill of terror ; for not being an individual w r ith 
an especial reverence for the ordinary and common-place in 
life, I take singular delight in doing any thing that may be 
considered extraordinary and that nobody else has done. 

When I found myself reeling under the tremendous shock 
inflicted by the lion, and recorded for the benefit of myself 
and posterity, I felt strange. “Strange if you didn’t,’* the 
reader may say. Just so ; very strange, indeed. I felt that 
kind of terror which a mouse may be supposed to feel on find- 
ing itself suddenly turned over by the paw of an unfriendly dis- 
posed cat — the normal feeling of cats, without exception, for 
mice in general. 

If Gerard, Gordon Cumming, or Baldwin had found them- 
selves in a similar predicament, they would, of course, have 
loaded and fired while in the act of staggering, and thereby 
brought the enemy to the ground at the same moment that 
they regained their own equilibrium. But I was no such ex- 
pert, and I had to trust to luck. 

I fell face downward and then rolled over among the horse’s 
legs, not knowing in my bewilderment whether I had been 
swallowed whole by the lion, as the whale swallowed Jonah, or 
where on earth I was. 

Oh ! for just forty seconds’ start, and a swift pair of 
heels would have carried me to the nearest tree, and no 
monkey in the world would have ascended it quicker. But 
there I lay. I was of course on my way down the throat of the 
hungry beast. Here was a perilous situation. Chop — I 
thought I heard the lion taking his first bite. Crunch— I 
imagined my right arm had gone to pieces. 

This was while I was rolling over ; the next instant, the 
horse that had fallen with me rose and galloped off, and I re- 
covered myself, and finding that I was so far out of the lion’s 
jaws that I could see a tree, I made for it as fast as I could, yet 
the speed seemed to me unaccountably slow. But how can a 
man run when cowering under a lion’s eye ? All his strength 
goes in trembling. At least such was my case. 

K 


14G 


ADEIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


I succeeded, however, in reaching and climbing the tree, 
rifle in hand, and, when I regained breath and courage enough 
to look down, I saw the lion lying dead at the feet of my com- 
panion. 

“You may come down,” cried "Wade; “I have settled hs 
hash and I descended like a very courageous man indeed, 
but feeling very weak about the knees. 

The Caffres, who had taken to flight, according to their 
usual custom, when the lion charged, were visible in the dis- 
tance, and two of the horses had disappeared, but the third, 
my own gray, was limping within sight, while our bushman 
was squatted under a tree, evidently in great pain. On going 
up to him, I found that he had been knocked down at the same 
moment as myself, and severely bitten through the shoulder, 
the lion’s teeth having penetrated the shoulder-blade ; but the 
horse had suffered terrible laceration, the teeth and claws of 
the beast having laid the ribs bare and torn huge pieces off the 
flank, besides disabling the left fore-leg. 

“ How did you manage to succeed so well ?” I said to Wade. 
“ That was a narrow escape.” 

“Yes, the narrowest we’ll ever have. But I’m fortunately 
pretty sure of my own shooting ; so as soon as I saw the lion 
spring on the gray, I stood away from the horses and waited 
for the first clear shot, and then, after slaking his revenge, as 
he trotted past me, I put my rifle to my shoulder, and gave 
him the second barrel, when, turning on his back and throw- 
ing out his neck and paws, he dropped his lower jaw, and with 
blood running from his mouth, he died.” 

I soon found that I had not come off wholly unharmed, for 
mv hands and right arm were torn and discolored, whether by 
the horse’s hoofs or the lion’s paws I could not tell to a cer- 
tainty, but appearances favored the supposition that both had 
a share in it. The stock of my rifle, too, was very much 
scratched, and I was full of pains and aches. 

Having skinned the lion and caught the horses, we moved 
towards our camping-ground, leaving the carcass to be de- 
voured by the vultures that were sweeping around it. We 
succeeded in leading the poor gray as far as a stream of water, 
where we bathed his wounds ; but he had become so weals 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


147 


through loss of blood, added to fright, that he could walk no 
further, and we were compelled to leave him there. On going 
in search of him the next day, we found nothing of him but his 
skeleton. The probability is that the lions had got hold of 
him during the night ; but he may have died of his first 
wounds, and been devoured by jackals and vultures — the in- 
evitable attendants upon the dead in the African wilderness. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

INTROSPECTIVE, 

Here in the primeval forest, night and morning, I offered 
up a prayer for my beloved Gertrude, and reproached myself 
for the misery I had caused her. My heart was always in 
New York, although the wilds of Africa were around me, and 
I longed for fresh movement and new excitements to drown 
my impatience and regrets. I yearned to be at her side again, 
never more to part. But would that happy period ever ar- 
rive ? The thought thrilled me as Hope and Despair alter- 
nately quickened my pulsations. 

The dangers of the forest were as naught to me in compari- 
son with the risk of losing irretrievably the one bright jewel 
that had crowned my existence. What was all the world to 
me if Gertrude was not mine, and the opportunity to redeem 
the past in the future never presented itself? I shuddered at 
the bare possibility of our never meeting again, and often X 
reproached myself for having accepted Reginald Wade’s offer 
to join him in the hunting expedition. “ What’s the use of 
uttering regrets ?*’ he would say. “ Make the best of the pre- 
sent and the future. Life is too short for us to grieve long 
over the past. You seem to me like a man who was terribly 
in earnest over some love-affair. Is that so ?” 

“Alas! it is,” I replied, “ but the details are too sacred for 
utterance, and I don’t wish to give way to unmanly mourn- 
ing.” 

“Cheer up, old fellow. Cheer up! All’s well that ends 


248 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


well. A happy dispositionea young fellow like you. with good 
health and all the world before him, ought never to suffer from 
^he blues.’” 

“Well, I don’t often,’* I would say, trying to shake off my 
appearance of gloom, “it’s only when I sit down and brood 
that I feel so. Generally I’m very sanguine and cheerful. 
Don’t you think so ?” 

“ Oh yes, jolly as a sand boy, but, like the sailor’s parrot, 
you’re a terrible thinker sometimes. Now, I’ve perhaps as 
much to think about and make me sad as you have, but you 
never find me looking as if I’d lost my last friend. Let me 
suggest as an antidote an indulgence in the devil-may-care 
sentiment of ‘I care for nobody, nobody cares for me.’ It’s 
bad to think too much of any one thing. Divert your mind 
and drive dull care away. Trust to Providence and keep your 
powder dry. ” 

The days and weeks dragged wearily in the Bush, notwith- 
standing the excitement of the hunt, but I could not return to 
Cape Town without Mr. Wade, unless I undertook the journey 
alone, and I did not wish to be the cause of interfering with 
his sport. Moreover, I am free to confess that I participated 
in it with wonderful zest, and, on the principle of “in fora 
penny in for a pound,” I determined to see it out, and, mean- 
while, controlled my impatience to reach the Land of Promise. 

Gertrude, however — my own adored darling Gertrude — 
would rise before my mind’s eye night after night as I gazed 
into the embers of our camp fire, and I fondly pictured her 
in a thousand different ways, and in imagination heard her 
voice and my own again in conversation — shared once more 
her joys and sorrows — felt the soft touch of her dainty hand, 
and revelled in unspeakable bliss. I read and re-read the sad, 
sad lines she had given me on my departure from New York, 
and kissed a thousand times the daguerreotype portrait of her- 
self which I always carried next my heart. That picture was 
the idol I worshipped, and its lineaments I never tired of trac- 
ing, wherever through the wide world I wandered. 

Where was Gertrude ? Was she living or dead, and what 
had happened since I left her ? With what feelings did she 
regard me now ? These were some of the many questions I 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


149 


put to myself, but alas ! there was no one to answer them, 
and so I lived on in suspense, carrying with as light a heart 
as I could the burden of my great grief, and communing with 
my own soul. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

CARRYING THE WAR INTO AFRICA. 

Grateful for my own escape, I, nevertheless, subsequently 
returned thanks to the lions with bullets. ‘ And this is how it 
came to pass. “Now or never, something or nothing,” said I. 
“Although I’m a nervous man, and very much alarmed when 
knocked over by a lion, I may be tolerably brave when, rifle in 
hand, I spot my game at a respectful distance. Therefore, I’ll 
go in for a hunter’s life in earnest, and become a second Gerard 
or any one else you please in that line, and seek the bubble 
reputation at the lion’s mouth. And how easy it will be to 
add a touch of fiction to heighten the effect of my thrilling ad- 
ventures when I publish them. My fortune will be made at 
once. When I go to London I shall be dubbed F.R.G.S., and 
invited to read a paper before the Society, describing all that I 
saw and did, and the lions of London society will gather 
around me like those of the land of my exploits, and when I 
return to my beloved and New York, the Geographical So- 
ciety there will do likewise, and I shall find myself famous.” 
Here was calculating conceit. I was sporting for fame and for- 
tune as much as the genuine love of sport. But what matter ? 
A charlatan is as good as a prince, so long as he eats olives 
with his lingers. While determining to outdo the celebrated 
Munchausen in the marvellousness ot my adventures, (or at 
least the chronicle of them, which passes for the same thing,) 
I had yet regard for time, and I resolved to remain no longer 
in Africa than was necessary to accomplish my murderous pur- 
pose, for I was eager to reach Melbourne, and I had a due re- 
gard for the shortness of life, and a desire to cram as much into 
its little span as human effort would permit. 


150 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


For four months after this I reman ed with my companion, a 
prowler in the wilderness, and, in order to give my readers 
some idea of what befell me during this eventful period, I can- 
not do better than give a few brief extracts from my diary, 
which was generally written in blood or a decoction of coffee, 
tea, or black earth, with the sharpened end of a piece of reed, 
for I lost my pencil shortly after commencing it, and I was 
unprovided with pens and ink. 

The reader will at once perceive that these specimen inci- 
dents of every-day life in Africa are recorded with that becom- 
ing modesty and utter freedom from exaggeration so eminently 
characteristic of African hunters and explorers. 

THE DIARY. 

August 21st. — On going out this morning 1 saw a bull- 
buffalo feeding ; crawled through the grass towards him, and, 
when I came near enough for a shot, fired and wounded him, 
upon which the infuriated beast immediately charged. I took 
to my heels with surprising agility, but before I had run 
twenty yards I found myself caught up by the bull’s horns as 
if by a “cow-catcher,” and tossed high into the air, but for- 
tunately alighting in the branches of a tree, I clung there to 
the intense disgust of the buffalo, which manifested a strong 
inclination to repeat the experiment, and remained on guard 
below for that purpose till the next morning, when he 
obligingly died from the effects of his wound, and I descended 
from my perch, feeling rather the worse for my unaccustomed 
roost, and very much like a bird with his feathers ruffled. 

Gertrude is ever present in my thoughts by day — in my 
dreams by night. What a fool I was to leave her. Alas ! alas ! 

25th. — I had a terrible adventure with a bull-elephant yes* 
terday. Chased him and fired, when he turned and stood at 
bay, and then charged trumpeting, with his ears up and spread 
out like a pair of Chinese fans. Put spurs to my horse, but 
found my way so impeded by tangled bushes, that before I 
could get clear the monster was within a few yards of me, when* 
he made a terrific sweep with his trunk, which actually grazed 
the horse’s tail as he flew forward, and came so near my head 
that the rush of air created knocked my cap off. The elephant 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


151 


kept close at my keels for about a mile, and then reaching an 
open country I left him considerably behind, upon which he 
gave up the pursuit and turned. Pulling up by a circular run, 

I followed his example, and was soon near enough to give him 
a shot, -which made him turn again, and charge with a blast of 
his trumpet at his best pace ; but he had no chance of over- 
taking me, so he resumed his retreat, and I went after him, 
firing as before. It was not till he had charged five times, 
twice coming within an ace of me, that I fired the last shot 
which brought him to the ground. Then I went up to him 
and found tears trickling from his eyes, and, darting at me a 
very reproachful glance, he expired. 

28th. — I was suddenly disturbed in the night-time, by the 
bushman Jack, who told me, in the greatest state of alarm, 
that one of the horses had been attacked by lions. Instantly I 
seized my double rifle, and went out ; saw, through the moon- 
light, six lions growling over the carcass, not twenty yards off; 
fired into the midst of them, but as they took no notice, fired 
again, when they retired slowly, roaring fiercely. Followed 
them up, firing at intervals. Found myself almost surrounded 
by a pack of tigers and wolves, which were making the air 
wildly melodious with their howling cries ; took the precau- 
tion of climbing the nearest tree, where I remained till day- 
break, when the lions, having completed their meal, beat a re- 
treat. Descended the tree, and found two of the lions dead on 
the field. 

September 10th. — Since my last entry! have shot sixteen 
elephants, twelve lions, four lionesses, three rhinoceroses, 
seven hippopotami, eighteen springboks, besides two hundred 
head of smaller game. What would the Society for the Pre- 
vention of Cruelty to Animals say to such doings ? In the 
midst of all, however, I have spells of bitter sadness. I find 
consolation in looking at Gertrude’s portrait, and pleasure in 
the anticipation of meeting her again — meeting her never to 
part, I hope, but alas ! I am so very far away from her now 
that the mere thought of the distance that separates us 
fills me with despondency- 

12th. — Had nothing to eat to-day, but a piece of a broiled 
snake that I shot, after it had flung itself at me with a fearful 


152 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


hiss. The Massoras— one fifth clothed in greasy tattered 
skins, and the rest naked — cooked it, all but the head, which 
they threw away, by cutting it into pieces and boiling. This, 
with a drink of water out of a skin-quagga, carried by the 
natives, could hardly be called luxurious fare. 

13th. — Shot an elephant, and dined off him in the form of 
broiled steaks. Loaded the dogs with meat, by cutting off 
huge lumps of flesh, and making holes in them, so as to slip 
their heads through. In this way they can carry enough food 
to last them for days. They presented a very comical 
appearance, with these novel necklaces on. 

15th. — Wade and I were overtaken by a bush-fire, driven 
before a strong wind. We were nearly blinded by smoke, and 
soon found tongues of red flame licking the ground about us ; 
while the crash of falling trees, and the roar of the con- 
flagration, filled the air. We succeeded, by hard running, in 
getting a short distance ahead of it, when we halted, and set 
fire to the grass and brushwood in several places ; and then lay 
down, while the on-coming flames curled around us, within a 
few yards, and then passed away. I thought I had entirely 
escaped injury, till my companion, on rising, burst into a peal 
of laughter on seeing that I had only one whisker left, the fire 
having carried the other away. 

16th. — Cut off the odd whisker lor the sake of uniform- 
ity. 

23rd. — I went out duck-shooting, and fell in with an alligator 
in the middle of a stream. Ho pursued me very rapidly, creat- 
ing, meanwhile, great commotion in the water ; and I had 
hardly regained the bank, when I felt a terrible tug at my 
shooting-jacket, which fortunately parted company, and disap- 
pointed the alligator of a choice meal. I sprang out of the 
water the next instant, and, looking round, saw the mouth of 
the monster open to receive me. 

Dreamed last night that I had been swallowed by an 
alligator, and that my spirit forthwith passed into a gorilla. 
Awoke in a fright, and told Wade, who laughed at me, and 
went to sleep again. 

26th. — Came suddenly upon a large bul] elephant, standing 
in a meditative attitude in a copse. Fired, and lamed him in 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


153 


the shoulder ; upon which he limped away, with a glance in his 
eyes, that seemed to say : “ Only to think that I should have 
come to this.” Felt sorry for him, but couldn’t help firing 
again. Hit him on the forehead, when he put the end of his 
trunk to the wounded spot, sorrowfully, as a child would do 
its finger. Hit him near the same place with another bullet, 
when he began to rub his forehead gently with the point of his 
trunk, as if suffering from a headache. Sympathised with him 
in his sufferings, but fired again notwithstanding ; when, with 
his eyes fixed upon me reproachfully, his frame quivered con- 
vulsively, and, falling on his side, he was no more. 

October 2d. — Wade and I, finding ourselves nearly out of 
bullets, set to work melting a couple of candlesticks, an old 
saucepan, a poker and a cork-screw, to supply our pressing 
needs in this respect. 

4th. — Miss the poker and the saucepan sadly. Was surprised 
by a buffalo, which charged furiously, and only escaped by 
dodging him adroitly, and catching hold of his tail. This stra- 
tagem on my part completely disconcerted him, and he whirled 
round like a top, till we both staggered with dizziness. Then 
he set off at a tearing pace across the country, like a dog with 
a kettle tied to his tail, and at last succeeded in working him- 
self into a terrible fright. I let go as he leapt over a water- 
course, and the next moment found myself floundering at the 
bottom of a creek, with an alligator swimming towards me at 
full speed. 

6th. — Spent the day wading and shooting in the Maputa 
river ; was charged by several hippopotami, one of which in 
particular caught me by the shirt-collar, and pulled me under 
water. As she held on tight with her teeth, I slipped my shirt 
off, and swam for life ; and regaining the bank, laughed defi- 
ance in her face Hereupon she displayed her chagrin by 
munching and swallowing the garment I had left with her, at 
the same time looking at me maliciously, as much as to say: 
“ This is how I’d like to serve you, my boy.’ Aggravated by 
this menace, I fired two shots, and killed her ; upon which the 
Caffres pulled her ladyship up high and dry upon the beach, 
and then rushed at the carcass with knives, assegais, and other 
instruments, and cut her to pieces with half-frantic energy, 


154 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


tossing lumps of the flesh to their fellows in the background 
like a shower of paving-stones. Secured the tongue for myself, 
and had a part of it cooked for dinner, and the rest pickled. 

10th. — Sighted a troop of elephants, covering the summit of 
a large hill. They tossed their trunks — the equivalent of turn- 
ing up their noses — on seeing me, and retreated, raising a tre- 
mendous dust as they went. I followed through the cloud, 
and, when they slackened their pace to that majestic walk 
which makes the elephant the most dignified of animals, I 
singled out the largest, and firing, invited him to charge, which 
he did with promptitude, and an agility I had hardly calculated 
upon ; for before I could get out of the way, he was down upon 
me, and both horse and rider were caught up by his trunk, 
and flung in the air. Fortunately, however, my good steed 
alighted on his legs, and took to his heels with prudent 
alacrity ; and I came down, cross-legged, on the tail-end of 
the elephant's back, and with my rifle still in hand. I had only 
to fire under his ear to bring him to his knees, and see him 
roll over just as I dismounted. In this position, he began to 
throw up dust with the point of his trunk, savagely. Reload- 
ing, and peppering him till he died, I secured the finest pair of 
tusks that I had yet included among my trophies. 

12th. — Daily and hourly I think of Gertrude — the pure an- 
gelic being who has suffered so much for me, and for whom I 
would undergo, if that were possible, a thousand deaths — and 
brood over my sad lot, while I almost curse the author of my 
misery. 

The base wretch Perkins — Mr. Morgan’s cashier — who 
bo falsely and maliciously accused me of what my nature 
would have ne\ er either tempted or permitted me to commit, 
deserves a keener punishment than any I am ever likely to in- 
flict, but if I had wreaked summary vengeance upon him when 
he uttered his guilty accusation, conscience would have ac- 
quitted me of the crime. 

How hard it is to bear up under such an injury as this with- 
out feeling at intervals a terrible desire for revenge, only those 
know who have experienced the ordeal. Sometimes impulse 
makes me say I will 'yet return to New York, and either force 
him to confess the cruel wrong he has done me, or be myself 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


155 


the instrument of retribution. What a blow he struck at her 
in filching from me my good name ! Surely such a man 
sooner or later must feel the bitterness of remorse. If 
there is a spark of goodness in his nature, he will 
some day repent and do his best to atone for 
what he has done, but alas ! it may be too late to be of any 
service to me. I am liable to be killed any day in these Afri- 
can wilds, and may never have the chance to face my accuser. 
I believe, however, after all, “ there is a Divinity which shapes 
our ends rough hew them as we may.” I have a blind confi- 
dence in the future notwithstanding its uncertainties and the 
dangers that surround me. I believe that sooner or later a 
merciful Providence interposes on behalf of the side of truth 
and right, and that this will be demonstrated in my own case. 
Magna est veritas et prevalebit. 

(Diary from this date, to the end of November, omitted. 
Extracts continued without dates.) 


1 have no idea of the date or what day of the week it is We 
are nowin the gorilla country, and Wade is just recovering 
from the effects of a squeeze from a gorilla that caught him by 
the hair, as we were passing through a dark wood, and pulled 
him up into a tree, where he would doubtless have killed him, 
only for a shot from me, which brought the two to the ground 
together. But the shot was not fatal, and the forest immedi- 
ately resounded with the gorilla’s dreadful roar, tearing through 
the air for miles like thunder ; and, raising himself on his short 
hind-legs, he began to beat his breast furiously with his huge 
paws, and advanced a few steps towards me. Wade, having 
succeeded in scrambling off, was groaning in the back-ground. 
The thundering roar and the drum like beat of the breast con- 
tinued, and the gorilla waddled a few steps nearer, foaming 
with rage, and swinging his muscular arms. In appearance 
he was something between a man and a bear, with a large 
stomach and a round head, the latter attached to a huge, awk- 
ward body, six feet high, by no perceptible neck. He had a 
low forehead, with a tuft of short hair on it, deep-set gray 
eyes, a dark moustache and side-whiskers, thin, sharply-cut 
lips, and features wrinkled and drawn up, so as to reveal a for- 


156 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


midable set of long-pointed teeth. His round head, his short 
hair, his flashing eyes, and the villainous expression of his 
countenance, added to the motion of the arms, made him a 
capital caricature of a prize-fighter ; and, laying my rifle against 
a tree, I assumed the attitude pugilistic, and mocked his move- 
ments. This evidently exasperated him more, and, when step- 
ping briskly forward, I gave him a full right-handed blow on 
the nose, and then stepped back, just in time to avoid a skil- 
fully-directed return blow, which would have been fatal, with 
his left, there were no bounds to his fury. He stamped, and 
tore, and ran at me, and, opening his powerful jaws, showed 
his teeth grimly, and resumed his sparring action with renew- 
ed energy. I gave him one more blow, this time over the left 
eye, which sent him reeling backward, and then seizing my 
rifle, I awaited his oncoming. He was within two feet of me, 
and preparing to strike, when I fired steadily into his right 
eye, and, with a heavy groan, he fell dead at my feet. And so 
I saved my life. 

We have been hunting gorillas for several days past, and 
yesterday shot a female, and captured her young one alive. 
The latter cried like child, mocked me in impatient rage, and 
refused to be comforted. On my return to the village, I was 
surprised to see one of the women take it into her arms, and 
suckle it, and to witness the almost maternal affection with 
which she appeared to regard it. 

Have been living on elephant and gorilla meat for a week, 
with the addition of palm-wine. Mebenee, the king of the 
Mebondemo tribe, has furnished me with sixteen wives, all of 
whom I have respectfully declined, the result of which is, that 
I am considered to be any thing but a ladies’ man, and the 
ladies, I am told, are determined to be revenged upon me. 

There was a full-dress ball here last night, or rather an un- 
dress ball. The ladies and gentlemen wore nothing but oil- 
skin, that is to say, they had their skin oiled. 


1 had a narrow escape from a gorilla yesterday. He ap- 
peared suddenly before me, twitching the skin of his forehead, 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


157 


beating his drum-like breast, and rolling thunder from his 
chest, after the manner of gorillas in general ; and before I had 
time to fire, but just as I was on the point of taking aim, he 
seized the rifle by the barrel, and wrested it from me in a 
moment ; and, throwing it to his own shoulder, fired 
straight at my head, thus displaying a power of 
imitation which was really wonderful. Fortunately 
the bullet passed through the side of my hat, just grazing my 
skull, and the gorilla, not understanding there was a second 
barrel, overlooked it, and pursued me a few paces, but I out- 
ran him. Here he stopped, and began to examine the weapon, 
and, placing the muzzle to his breast, he tried the experiment 
of pulling both triggers, and, to his great grief and surprise, 
succeeded in lodging the contents of the loaded barrel in his 
stomach, whereupon he twisted the barrel like a piece of wire, 
and broke the stock like a biscuit in his anger, after which he 
uttered a diabolical roar, and seeing me grinning at him 
through an opening in the wood, waddled towards me at full 
speed, but staggered and expired on the way. 


Having spent more than four months in the wilds of Africa, 
I told Wade that I must leave him, for there was probably a 
letter awaiting me at Melbourne, and I prized the possession 
of that letter more than all the elephants’ tusks and lions’ skins 
on the continent. A letter from Gertrude ! How the mere 
thought thrilled me ! I had read it in imagination so often 
and in so many ways, that I longed to receive it with an im- 
patience which I shall not attempt to describe. 

“Well, if you must go,” he replied, “I don’t know but 
what 111 accompany you. At any rate, I want to get back to the 
Cape. I’m. getting a little tired of being squeezed by gorillas, 
scratched by lions, tossed by buffaloes, bitten by snakes, and 
crushed by elephants : I want a change of diet, too, one 
wearies of snake, and monkey, and hippopotamus, and ele- 
phant, and gorilla, eternally at breakfast, dinner and supper, 
and longs for nectar and ambrosia ; I can imagine a man re- 
lishing a glass of red ink and a fish-hook after such fare as 
we’ve had.” 

So we commenced our journey back to Cape Town together, 


ir> 8 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


hunting by the way, and securing new trophies every day. 
Of these we had ten bullock wagon-loads — with a dozen bush- 
men in charge — when we arrived, tanned and ragged, at our 
destination ; besides several tons that we had forwarded before 
travelling to the gorilla country. 

These we sold in parcels to merchants of the place, and the 
result was, that after the payment of all expenses, Wade’s share 
of the spoils amounted to twelve hundred pounds, and mine to 
a little over one thousand. 

In that glittering gold I thought I saw my way to Fortune — 
back to New York and Gertrude Morgan — to vindication — to 
happiness 1 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

MR. REGINALD WADE WRITES HOME. 

“Do you know, old fellow,” said Reginald Wade to me one 
forenoon, as I found him in front of his portfolio at our hotel 
in Cape Town, “ *’ve just been writing home, and drawing 
your pen and ink portrait at full length. A description of my 
lion hunting adventures in South Africa would certainly not be 
complete without that — eh ?” 

“Perhaps not,” I replied, “but as your correspondents 
don't know me, there is not, of course, the same interest at- 
taching to your mention of me that there otherwise would 
be.” 

“Oh! you don’t know that,” he rejoined, “I mean to have 
you meet them some day, otherwise they won’t believe half 
that I’ve told them about my terrible privations, hair-breadth 
escapes and wonderful achievements. Come to England with 
me and I’ll introduce you all round. Won’t you ?” 

“Well, perhaps I will, but you know man proposes and 
God disposes, so there is little use in my saying what I’ll do or 
what I won’t do at present. I should like very well to do as 
you suggest — that you can have no doubt of, and as they say 
in France nous verrons. But Australia and America first.” 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


159 


“And by the bye,” interrupted Wade, “I’ve been telling 
my Uncle Henry — the same who dined with us at the Athe- 
namm — of that curious dream of mine about you and him. That 
will make him feel all the more interested in you — eh ? Little 
incidents of that kind go a long way sometimes in making one 
remembered. At any rate it will amuse him. He has no children, 
unfortunately, although there is a chance of his succeediug to 
a peerage some day — that is to say, his father is heir to an Earl- 
dom, and he comes next. I’d like to introduce you to his wife, 
a charming creature, the only child of a splendid fellow — a ba- 
ronet with more pounds than I have pence. But he — my un- 
cle, I mean — is not good enough for her. He was always a 
little too fast, although he’s the son of a colonial bishop. It’s 
proverbial, however, that the sons of bishops are, to quote 
Byron, ‘ungodly in their glee.’ Come, you are a man of the 
world. What do you say ?” 

“If,” I said, reflectively, “I understand it aright, this gen- 
tleman is your uncle on the maternal side ?” 

“ Yes — my mother’s brother.” 

“ What’s his wife’s first name, do you say ?” 

“ Harriet — why ?” 

“Oh! nothing.” 

“I'll put you forward as the great African lion and gorilla 
hunter, when we get back,” remarked my companion, “and 
all the drawing-rooms in London will be open to you, and 
you'll be a veritable lion — for a season. But a lion never lasts 
longer than a season, so guard against disappointment.” 

“Well, and what of yourself? You’ll be the great Mogul.” 

“ Oh, you know, it doesn’t matter much what becomes of me. 
I’m not particularly devoted to my native land, but there is one 
woman in it that I really and truly love. Unfortunately my 
family oppose the match because her father is nothing more than 
a country curate, and she is entirely without fortune. But I 
think I shall marry her after all, for she’s certainly the only 
girl I ever loved, and I can never love another in the same 
way. She lives near my father’s estate in Derbyshire, and we 
have known each other almost from infancy. Weighed against 
her all the money in the world seems like mere dross. Yes, 
Florence Graham — pure, beautiful and ingenuous — outshines to 


160 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


my mind all the belles of society and queens of fashion I have 
ever met in the gay world. There is a struggle between in- 
terest and sentiment in my case, and I think the heart will 
win. You shall see her,” he continued half jokingly, “when 
we return if you'll promise not to fall in love with her.” 

“ There’s no danger of that,” I observed with a smile. “I 
owe allegiance to another I’m glad to say, and all the trea- 
sures, fascinations, and beauty in the world would not avail 
one iota to divert me for an instant from my fixed purpose. ” 

“Fine fellow! fine fellow!” exclaimed Reginald Wade, 
rising and patting me on the shoulder in a jocose way, “ what 
a model young man you are ! Give me the young lady’s ad- 
dress, and I’ll write and tell her what a faithful lover she has. 
But, joking aside, Edmonds, you must come back to England 
with me. I’ll promise you plenty of sport and no end of good 
cheer.” 

“ What is England to me?” I asked, thinking of Gertrude, 
“I must first go to New York.” 


CHAPTER XX Y III. 

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 

The success of our hunting expedition failed, upon reflec- 
tion, to reconcile me to the course I had pursued in interrupt- 
ing my journey. I reproached myself bitterly for having lin- 
gered on the way, and awaited with anxiety the arrival of the 
steamer which was to bear me on to the golden land where, in 
all probability, had been lying for months those letters of 
which I had so long thought and dreamed. It seemed almost 
an inconsistency for me to have done as I had ; and this very 
appearance preyed upon me, and I grew restless, sleepless, and 
despondent. How could I atone for such apparent neglect ? 
The thought had often oppressed me in the wild solitudes 
from which I had come, and destroyed the pleasure of the 
hunt. But I consoled myself with the fixed determination to 
resume my journey, come what might, within six months from 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


161 


the time of landing, Deo Volente. And I struggled hard indeed 
to stifle the feelings which were ever springing from the foun- 
* tain of the heart, and not unseldom bedewing the eye with 
tears. I had a dreadful past to look back upon, all the more 
crushing because filled with contrasts. The brightest, gladdest, 
most sacred memories, were * overcast by the dark clouds of 
calamity ; and although a woman’s love shone through them, 
the guiding star of my life, true and steadfast through every 
change, there was a terrible sense of wrong and humiliation 
suffered, which, day by day, inflicted its slow-consuming tor- 
ture. 

The loss of reputation, the disgrace of crime, were of them- 
selves a dreadful punishment ; but how much more acutely 
painful when aggravated by injustice. For innocence to bear 
the mark of guilt is sad indeed ; and it were better that ninety- 
nine should go unpunished, than that one of the righteous 
should suffer. 

Time, however, might rectify the wrong which a fellow-man 
had dealt me ; and even that glowing, happy picture of the 
future, of the realization of which I was once so confident, and 
which had kindled within me so much hope and joy, and made 
life itself a heavenly pilgrimage, might yet be realized. Ah ! 
how much I yearned that it would. As the night is darkest 
when the dawn is nearest, so the black sky that overshadowed 
me might some day brighten before the advancing beams of 
Light, and Truth and Justice absolve me from the imputations 
under which I had suffered. 

The love of a woman before marriage has linked her fortunes 
with the object of her affection, must be deep and earnest in- 
deed to pass unchanged through such an ordeal as fell to the 
lot of Gertrude. Few are the loves among the upper-ten of 
society that could survive the social disgrace of a crime such 
as that with which my maligner charged me. And might not 
even she change ? Time, absence, and the opinion of others, 
the last the most dangerous of all in its influence upon the 
female mind, be it for good or evil, might make her resigned 
to give me up. But I could hardly believe it. A choking sen- 
sation overcame me at the mere thought. Nevertheless, she 
might possibly doubt mv motive in leaving New York so soon 

L 


162 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


after the accusation, and a question as to my sincerity in de- 
nying the charge against me might arise in her mind. Per- 
haps it would have been better for me to have remained and 
demanded a trial. But then that would have involved a pub- 
lic disclosure of the case, and been very unpleasant for her ; 
and I loved her too much not to sacrifice my own interests for 
her pleasure. 

The idea of returning to New York as soon as possible, after 
reaching Melbourne, occurred to me. Then I might demand 
a hearing by sueing Mr. Perkins for slander ; but if he persisted 
in his false accusation, how could I rebut the false testimony ? 
I thought of the quotation, 

“ Man’s inhumanity to man 
Makes countless millions mourn ;** 
and pitied the human being who could be so cowardly and de- 
based as to ruin the reputation of another for the sake of sus- 
taining his own. No ! I had but one hope : in the course of 
time Mr. Perkins might make a confession ; and, meanwhile, 
I relied on Gertrude believing my statement, and not his, to 
be the true one. 

“You look very sad,” said Mr. Wade, one day ; “ what’s the 
matter with you ?” 

“Well, to tell you the truth,” I replied, “I feel a little 
home-sick. ” 

“ Ah ! that puts me in mind of ‘ the girl I left behind.’ I’m 
a sad dog myself, and I often find sentiment and memory too 
much for me. I’m travelling now, as you know, as much to get 
over an affection of the heart as anything else, because my father 
threatened to cut me off with a shilling if I married that certain 
young lady. But, as I’ve said before, I don’t think I shall be able 
to get over it, so I may have to take the shilling — that is, if 
the young lady will take me. One reason why I’m so much 
down on society is its folly in sacrificing comfort, independence, 
and affection, for appearances. I’m glad to say I’m not one of 
its slaves, and I pride myself on the fact. ” 

“ 4 Come,’ said Doctor Johnson,’ he remarked, changing the 
conversation, and quoting from memory, 4 let us take a walk 
up Fleet Street ” and we sauntered out together. 

The stranger, ignorant of the fact that the Cape was origi- 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


163 


nally settled by the Dutch, would have no difficulty in disco- 
vering, by personal observation, what he failed to learn from 
history. The Dutch element is conspicuous on all sides. It 
is to be seen in the stoops, porches, gables, and weather- 
vanes of many of the houses, and the faces of the drowsy 
smokers of long clay pipes, who, in the evening, sit on the 
stoops, and puff lazily, exchanging, perhaps, now and again, a 
word with a neighbor on the opposite side of the street. It is 
to be seen in the names of some of the streets, and many of 
the badly painted shop-signs ; in the visage and gait of half the 
men and women ; in their dress, and in a few of their schools, 
where the Dutch language is taught grammatically ; it is to be 
found in their proverbs, their habits, their tastes ; and the 
descendants of the boers of 1650 look as if their descendants 
would continue Dutch till the end of time. 

Men, with lean forms, dusky skins, high cheek-bones, sharp 
chins, languid eyes, and indolent step, were known as Caffres ; 
and flat-nosed, dwarfish, miserable looking creatures, as Hot- 
tentots ; but the genuine Caffre and Hottentot have long dis- 
appeared from the precincts of Cape Town. 

The various shades of color among the people, varying from 
the deep ebony of the negro to the delicate tint of some of those 
of mixed blood, gave a picturesque appearance to the masses. 
Here and there I saw a woman of the latter class, of surprising 
beauty, and paused to gaze upon the graceful outline of her 
well-developed form, the eloquent fire of her full bright eyes, 
and the winning expression of her faultless features. But 
these instances of beauty were few and far between. 

It was a relief to the eye to meet a Malay, with a bright- 
colored handkerchief twisted round his head, and to find a 
sprinkling of peaked bamboo hats circulating in the tide of 
traffic. 

I was strolling leisurely along a walk which led by a brook- 
side in the rear of the town, and admiring the natural beauty 
of the spot, at the same time that I was observing the not unpic- 
turesque attitudes of a number of ebony washerwomen congre- 
gated on its , banks, when a figure approached, and a once 
familiar voice said: “ Why, how do you do? What brings 
you here ?” The speaker extended his hand, and I at once 


164 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


recognized an old acquaintance. It was Captain Whittle - 
stick ! ! ! 

I started in amazement, for I had not seen him since the 
day I left Newfoundland. “ Hillo ! Captain,” I exclaimed, 44 is 
that you ? Is it possible that you really remember me ?” 

44 Yes,” said he, “ I knew you by the cut of your jib.” 

44 What, after all these years — leaving me a boy and meet- 
ing me a bearded man ?” 

“Yes, Sir-ee. I never forget a man, nor a boy either, I 
guess — no matter whether he wears a sou’-wester or stoce 
clothes.” 

With the exception of several old scars on his lace, and a 
sprinkling of gray in his hair, his appearance had undeigone 
little change since the day he left Liverpool in the ill-fated 
“ Skimmer of the Seas !” 

4 4 Where are you bound to ?” he inquired. 1 4 Tell us all about 
what you’ve been doing ?” 

“ I’ve paid my passage by the steamer 4 Harbinger’ for Mel- 
bourne,” I replied. 

“ Je-rusalem! is that so ? Just where I’m going. I guess 1 
shall leave to-night. My ship is the 4 Orinoco.’ Come and 
see a fellow when you arrive. I came in here jury-rigged, but 
I've made repairs, and am ready to sail.” 

While we were talking over old scenes and old friends, he 
said to me, pointing towards the Table Mountain : 

44 Do you see yonder white cloud ? That is what we sailors 
call the Table-cloth. Whenever you see that gathering over the 
mountain, you may make up your mind for a storm ; ” and 
within an hour, the wind suddenly changed from north-west to 
south-east, and blew half a gale ; the sky darkened, the rain 
fell, and the waters of the bay leapt gayly against the back- 
ground of the sky with a feathering of foam. 

“If you want to ascend to the top of the mountain,” said 
he, “you can do it in two or three hours, and enjoy the 
most magnificent prospect at the Cape ; but take care of the 
monkeys.” 

I walked with him as far as the pier, when he bade me good- 
bye, with a firm grip of the hand, and then jumped into a boat 
which carried him to his ship through the gathering storm. 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


165 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

MELBOURNE AT LAST. 

e< Well, are you coming?” I said to Mr. Wade, about the 
time the steamer was expected to arrive. 

“ Yes, I don’t think I can do better. One good turn, as the 
saying goes, deserves another ; and as you accepted my invi- 
tation to stop here, I shall be happy to return the compliment 
and go there.” 

And so we sailed from Cape Town together, on board the 
“ Harbinger,” late in February, 1853. 

Seventeen days on the ocean, and lo ! the beautiful island 
of Mauritius ! its lofty and irregular mountains overlooking its 
fertile valleys and fields of sugar-cane. Like an emerald set in 
gold, it flashes upon the view, tempting the seaworn voyager 
to its shores. We round its western end, and enter the broad 
bay of Port Louis, at the head of which lies the town, plea- 
santly environed east, and north, and south, by the mountains, 
one of which, immediately in its rear, rises to an altitude of 
nearly three thousand feet. A long ridge — “the camel’s 
back” — shoots from it, crowned by a formidable fortress called 
the citadel, commanding the harbor, and other mountains 
loom away in the distance. 

Cupolas and minarets rise to the left, and to the right is a 
gaudy village of wooden cottages and walled gardens. The 
one is the camp of coolies, the other that of creoles. The pas- 
sengers feel eager for the shore, and exchange remarks upon 
the beauty of the prospect 

We land. We find the quay no idle scene. Coolies, in 
groups, are singing as they work, loading and discharging the 
lighters that lie alongside the wharf. Custom-house officers 
are busy weighing, gauging', and measuring ; and men of all 
countries, some of whom are in their national costumes, move 
about among bales and boxes and mats of sugar. The grace- 
ful turban, and the flowing robe, contrast with the sober garb 
of the North, and the pig- tail of the Chinaman with the close 
crop of the British officer. We stroll into the Place d’Armes 


166 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


— a square planted with trees, and resembling its namesake of 
Montreal — and are told that the building at the upper end of it 
is the Government House. We learn from a guide-book that 
the population is about fifty-five thousand, including eleven 
thousand Indians. 

The streets cross each other at right-angles, ana some of 
them, as in South American cities, are traversed by water- 
courses ; while, as in the United States, numerous trees, bam- 
boo and other, offer a grateful shade. We overhear a babel of 
tongues as we pass along, and. note a variety of features and 
complexions. The buildings are as heterogeneous as the 
people. Imposing stone warehouses stand side by side with 
the wooden hut of a Malabar tobacconist, whose shop resem- 
bles one of his segar-boxes ; and handsome stone residences, 
shaded with verandahs, and surrounded by well-kept gardens, 
in the immediate vicinity of detached shanties. Yet all this is 
picturesque, although often grotesque. We are glad of the 
shelter which our umbrellas afford from the bright, hot sun- 
shine ; and occasionally we enter one of the Liliputian shops, 
to find the proprietor, an Indian, perhaps, squatted on a table 
or counter, with his goods within reach on all sides. He does 
not change his posture when we enter, nor when he serves us, 
and seems to act under the impression that if he moved from 
his position he would melt away. 

French is the prevailing language, but English is alone 
allowed to be spoken in the legislative chambers. 

We saunter into the Malabar quarter, and find nearly every 
shop a manufactory, and numbers of traders dispensing with 
shops altogether. Barbers are doing a brisk trade, under 
pieces of matting propped with sticks against a wall ; and my 
companion stops to be shaved by an Asiatic. 

lietracing our steps, we get glimpses of the bread-fruit tree, 
and the lofty tamarind, with its crest of bright, green foliage, 
growing beside the date, the cocoa-nut, and the bamboo, in the 
inclosures of private mansions. Flowers meet us at every turn 

f or the people love them, and bring them from all ends of 

the earth to adorn the city of gardens. 

Our eyes become accustomed to sign-boards, and we are no 
longer surprised to see a lollypop shop called a temple of 


ADEIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


1G7 


sweetmeats, or a dealer in small wares dignify his establish- 
ment by calling it a bazaar of fashion. We are tempted by in- 
dolent guides to ascend the Ponce, from whose summit a mag- 
nificent view presents itself ; but we decline, lest the expedition 
should cost us our passage — for our time of departure is uncer- 
tain, and this is the hurricane season, when it only requires a 
signal to be hoisted over the post-office to put most of the ves- 
sels in the harbor to flight, and cause the remainder to take 
down their topgallant masts and yards, and throw out half-a- 
dozen anchors to prevent their *being swept on shore, and to 
make the inhabitants of the town put up their hurricane shut- 
ters — they have such things — and fortify their doors by extra 
bolts, bars, and boarding ; for the wind having once effected 
an entrance, usually blows away the roof, and makes short 
work of the premises. M< an while the leaves fly like chaff from 
the tree branches, branches are torn from the parent stem, 
and even whole trees are uprooted ; the bay is lashed to fury, 
and the vessels at anchor bend over like yachts in a regatta. 

We are again at sea; a passenger dies of a slow wasting dis- 
ease, in the vain hope of recovering from which he had under- 
taken the voyage. We gather on deck, and listen to the im- 
pressive reading of the burial-service over the corpse which, 
in its canvas coffin, rests on the bulwark, balanced by the 
hand of the sail-maker. The next moment it drops over the 
ship’s side, and we follow it with our eyes till it diminishes to 
a mere speck, and then vanishes for evermore. A burial at sea 
is a solemn event, and we ponder over the mystery of life and 
death, and those watery depths in which so many have found 
their grave. For a time the sound of laughter is hushed, and 
women may be seen gazing with tearful eyes into the dark blue 
waste where so many hopes lie buried. 

A run of three weeks brings us to King George’s Sound, on 
the southwestern coast of Australia — a fine bay, surrounded by 
hills, east, north, and west, and included in the colony of West- 
ern Australia, which is but thinly settled. The sand-hills look 
desolate, and the signs of civilization are scanty. We coal — and 
what a delightful thing coaling is, only those can appreciate 
who have been on board a steamer during coaling-time, when 
the noise and dust combine to deafen and to choke ; and after 


168 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE, 


this, we receive on board a few more passengers, and again re- 
sume our tedious voyage towards Adelaide, where we part with 
some of our old companions, and receive on board a few rough 
but arrogant personages, with heavy beards, cabbage-tree hats, 
knee-boots, and riding- whips, calling themselves “old chums,” 
who talk a good deal about sheep and tallow, hides and horse- 
flesh, interspersed with allusions to the diggings and large nug- 
gets, and wonderful stories of their adventures with bush- 
rangers and natives. 

Three days more, and lo ! land again. 

A pilot boards us at Shortlands Bluff, whose appearance on 
deck is the signal for all sorts of questions, and the vessel 
glides through the “ Heads” into the broad waters of Hob- 
son’s Bay, whose shores at first low, rocky, sandy, and patched 
with furzy vegetation, gradually change their aspect ; and lofty 
mountains, the distant snow-capped summits of which were 
before alone visible, display their sweeping sides covered with 
inviting verdure against the clear back-ground of the sky. On- 
ward we steam past desolate sand-hills on the left, and dark 
primeval woods on the right, in the immediate foreground, 
and sixty miles from the entrance, reach the anchorage ground, 
where we embark on tug-boats for the shore. We course the 
river, Yarra Yarra, lined with tea-tree scrub, and which, prior 
to the year 1835, was unknown to all save the wild man, and 
are landed at the Melbourne wharf. 

The prospect is anything but promising, for it is near the 
end of April, and the commencement of the wet season. Mud 
is deep and universal, and neither porters, omnibuses, nor car- 
riages are to be seen, so we have to follow the example of ele- 
phants, and carry our own trunks, in the midst of a drenching 
rain — that is, such of us as have them. But fortunately, Mr. 
Wade and myself are wise in our generation, and travel with 
the most portable quantity of baggage of perhaps any single 
gentlemen in the world, and, in this case, we have left that lit- 
tle behind. 

We see nothing but sheds and shanties, separated from us 
by an acre of quagmire ; and, trudging onward, come to an 
ugly square stone building, access to which is gained by a 
ladder-like flight of steps, and which we are informed is the 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


169 


custom-house. We take our way up a street flanked on the 
right by a low wall, inclosing the ugly custom-house, and on 
the left by a dirty-lookin public-house, and a few wretched 
looking wooden edifices, used as stores by individuals whose 
appearance is even more forbidding than their warehouses. 
Several times we stick in the mud while making our way 
through this street, which presents about as unrefreshing and 
miserable an aspect as any to be found either in or out of 
Australia. However, this is Melbourne. This is the El 
Dorado. 

There are few people to be seen moving, and the only sign 
of commerce is a solitary bullock-team, waiting in front of one 
of the before-mentioned wooden stores. At the top of this 
street a more promising scene meets our view. The cathedral 
stands at one corner, and the market, forming a square, and 
by-the-by, the only one in the city, at the other, while Collins 
Street, the Broadway of Melbourne, divides them. The Bank 
of New-South Wales fronts the religious edifice, and several 
brick an d plaster hotels, and a few modern shanties, and an 
iron house, face the market-place ; the latter consisting of 
a confused assemblage of tents, Jews, slop-goods, and fruit- 
stalls. 

Such was the capital of Victoria at that day. 

With feelings of pain, anxiety, hope and dread, I hurried 
through the muddy streets towards the post-office, joyfully an- 
ticipating the result of my application for a letter at one mo- 
ment, and fearing it the next. I was so excited by the time I 
arrived at the delivery- window, marked A to F, that I forgot 
for a moment my own name, and stared at the clerk in the 
office with a bewildered look, thinking only of Gertrude. 

“ What name ?” he asked gruffly, and it suddenly recurred 
to me : 

“Washington Edmonds.” 

He pulled a handful of letters out of a pigeon-box, marked 
E, and threw me three, bearing the New- York post-mark, 
and addressed in the handwriting of my inamorata. How I 
prized and kissed them, and grew flushed in the face with joy, 
and hurried to a retired corner to open them, away from the 
intrusive gaze of others ! How I reproached myself for having 


170 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


stopped at the Cape on my way out, and made sudden resolu- 
tions to atone in the future for the shortcomings of the past ! 
How the future brightened before my view, and a flood of sun- 
light burst upon my enchanted soul ! How I blessed the 
adored writer of those precious letters, and kissed them with 
passionate fervor again and again, for her sake, I remember as 
vividly as if it had been yesterday. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

GLAD TIDINGS. 

Impatient to break the seals, yet anxious to prolong 
the pleasure of anticipation, and half-afraid to face the 
shock of any painful tidings the letters might contain, seconds 
passed over me like hours, as I gazed fondly upon their super- 
scriptions, and read the dates stamped in circles on their 
covers. Those post-marks sent a chill to my heart, and I felt 
angry with myself. One had been in Melbourne three months, 
another nearly as long, and the third two. 

I opened the last first. It ran thus : 

“ New York , November 28, 1852. 

“My dear Washington : Oh! if you were only here now, 
I’d give the world. Mr. Perkins has confessed all. In my 
last I told you that he had been arrested for embezzling fa- 
ther’s money. Soon after that, he was tried, convicted, and 
sentenced to seven years’ imprisonment in the State Prison. 
While he was in the Tombs, just after his conviction, I went 
to him with father’s lawyer, and entreated him to tell the truth 
about the accusation he made against you ; but although he 
appeared oppressed with remorse, and on the verge of a con- 
fession, he made none. I left, telling him I hoped his consci- 
ence would soon lead him to perform the only act of justice by 
which he could atone for the injury he had done you. I saw 
that his pride struggled against making the confession, but his 
manner betrayed him, and I read his thoughts as plainly as if 
he had uttered them aloud. He looked very sick and haggard 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


171 


then, and evidently felt keenly the disgrace of his position. 
He told me he was more sorry for what had occurred, on ac- 
count of his wife and family, than for his own sake, and added 
that he should not live long, for grief was killing him fast. 

“ On the next day, I think, he was removed to Sing-Sing ; 
and one evening, about a fortnight after, father received a mes- 
sage from the prison, saying that Mr. Perkins was dying, and 
was anxious to see either him or myself. I persuaded him to 
go, and to allow me to accompany him ; and on the next morn, 
ing we started. As we entered the room of the hospital-ward, 
where he lay, on a low iron-bedstead, Jhe raised his eyes to- 
wards us, and uttered, in a low, tremulous tone, c I’m glad 
you’ve come ; ’ and drew from the head of his bed a folded sheet 
of paper, and handed it to father, who read it before giving it 
to me. My hand trembled as I took it from him, and I read 
it all in an instant. I only send you a copy of it, but you shall 
have the original as soon as you come home. 

“It ran as follows, and was written in a feeble, unsteady 
hand : — 

“ ‘ I have only a short time longer to live, and I write a con- 
fession. I cannot resign myself to die without doing it. It 
was a wholly false charge I made against Mr. Washington Ed- 
monds, and I repent of having ruined him. I did it to throw 
suspicion and guilt off myself, and fix it upon him. I believe 
him to have been quite honest. May he and all forgive me, 
and God have mercy upon my soul. 

Edward Perkins.’” 

“Oh ! how glad and thankful I was. I went to the bedside, 
and said : ‘Thank you for this, Mr. Perkins. You have done 
a good action, and we all forgive you.’ 

“ ‘Duty, duty,’ he murmured, faintly. ‘I sinned. I’m dy- 
ing now. My heart s broken. Forgive me ; pray for me.’ 
Here he became inarticulate, and I slowly shrank back to my 
father’s side, gazing at the pallid face and closed eyes of the 
sick man. He was evidently very weak, and even the slight 
effort at speech he had made, exhausted him. 

“Father stepped forward, and said : ‘ I’m sorry to find you 
so ill, Mr. Perkins, and I’ll use all my influence to procure 
your pardon. ’ A sigh, a groan, and a tear escaped from the 


172 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


unhappy prisoner, but not a word. There was a dull, mute 
agony, in that silence of the tongue. 

“ ‘He’s too sick to be spoken to,’ said the turnkey, who 
accompanied us, as a hint that we should leave , and we im- 
mediately quitted the room, with a ‘Good-by, Mr. Perkins,’ 
to which there was a faint rattling echo of ‘ Good-by, ’ from 
the low iron bedstead. I burst into tears when I found myself 
outside the prison, I was so sorry for you. The thought that you 
had suffered and lost so much, and banished yourself almost to 
another world, because of the false accusation of the man who 
had now confessed how much he had wronged you, pained me 
deeply; and I kne v that months must elapse before you could 
hear the news, and months more before you could return to 
New York. Ah ! my dear, dear Washington, you little know 
how much I have loved you, and grieved about you, since that 
terrible morning when you went away. It is now more than 
six months sir.ce you left, and oh ! how long tUat time seems. 
I am so sorry you ever went away. Why did you ? Ah ! if 
you only knew how sad I’ve been. 

“ I'm growing more and more anxious about you, every day, 
for not a letter has come from you since you left England. I 
have all sorts of imaginings, and am very, very unhappy. I’m 
not the same person that I was before you left, and I’m afraid 
you’ll hardly know me when you return , and you must return 
immediately. I have father’s special instructions to call you 
hack; and so that you may have no excuse on pecuniary 
grounds, he bids me tell you that he will lodge a thousand 
dollars to your credit with Adams’s Express Company, payable 
at Melbourne. He is very sorry for what he did, and seems 
quite broken-hearted. He says he owes you a debt he can 
never repay. He has written you a letter, which I inclose. 
Won’t you come ? I implore you to. Donft let any feelings of 
false delicacy prevent you. Only remember me, and think 
how miserable I am without you: 

“ I hope you have, or will receive my two former letters, 
addressed to you in the same way as this, and that you have 
written me good long letters in reply. 

“ I am only just recovering from the excitement of my visit 
to Sing Sing yesterday, so you see I lose no time in letting 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


173 


you know the good news. Every night I place your daguer- 
reotype under my pillow, and every morning before rising I 
take it up and look at it, and kiss it over and over again. Do 
you do the same with mine ? Write soon, and tell. 

“ Your very loving and anxious Gertie. 5 ’ 

A happy sense of relief, followed by an exultant feeling of 
joy, took possession of me, and I tore open the inclosure ad- 
dressed in the well-known handwriting of Mr. Morgan, and 
read: 

“New York, November 28th, 1852. 

“ My dear Sir, — I avail myself of the first opportunity to in- 
form you, that Mr. Perkins, my late cashier, who was recently 
convicted of embezzlement, has confessed that the charge he 
preferred against you, and which at the time I had sufficient 
confidence in him to believe, was false. I need hardly assure 
you that it gives me much pain to know that you have been so 
deeply wronged, and that I am willing to do all in my power to 
atone in the future for the injury done you. Should you feel 
disposed to return to New York, you may rely on my assist- 
ance ; and lest the want of money should be an obstacle in 
your way, I enclose a draft for a thousand dollars in your favor, 
on the Melbourne branch of the Adams Express Company. 
With sincere regret for the past, and the warmest assurances of 
my continued friendship, believe me 

“ Yours very truly, Edward Morgan 

Opening the remaining letters, I found them full of grief, 
anxious speculation, and details of what had occurred since I 
left New York. The silence which I had been unable to ac- 
count for at Liverpool, on any other supposition than the 
sickness which the spiritual “ medium” had described to me, 
was explained. It was all true. Gertrude had been prostrated 
by a nervous fever from that very day when last we parted, 
and had lain on the verge of death for many weary days, weak, 
heart-broken, and despairing; and in her hours of delirium she 
ha^l raved of me, and called to me by name, Alas ! that I 
should have been the innocent cause of so much grief, so 
much melancholy anguish, to one that I loved more dearly 
even than life itself. And how strange that a human being in 


174 


ADEIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


Liverpool, knowing nothing personally of the parties or cir- 
cumstances, should have told me so truly of thoughts and 
events that were passing in New York. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE LAND OF GOLD. 

I felt my eyes lighted up with a preternatural radiance, and 
my face aglow with excitement, as I hurried from the precincts 
of the post-office into the open streets and walked, I hardly 
knew where, so bewildered and intoxicated was I with my new- 
found joy. People turned to look at me as I passed them ra- 
pidly by, heeding nothing but my own thoughts, and fairly 
transported by the glad tidings I had received ; I was reading 
the letters over again from memory, and I seemed to remem- 
ber every word they contained, so vivid and indelible was the 
impression they had instantaneously produced. 

I was rewarded at last, and virtue was triumphant! The 
great prize on which I had placed my highest hopes and 
grandest aspirations was now almost within my grasp ! 1 was 

happy ! 

But one thing caused me regret, and that was my not hav- 
ing arrived' at Melbourne sooner, to receive and reply to those 
dear letters. To what would Gertrude attribute my long 
silence ? I would write by the next mail, and immediately I w 
rushed back to the post-office to inquire when that would be 
despatched. A notice on a board told me that a ship to sail on 
the next day for New York would carry a mail-bag. 

I went from house to house, and hotel to hotel, seeking a 
room or a place where I could sit down and write, but could 
find none. People laughed at the idea, and hinted that there 
was not a lodging to be let in the whole city, and that I might 
think myself lucky to have sleeping-room on the floor of a bil- 
liard-room, or an umbrella to camp out under. Bat I was not 
to be baffled in my purpose, and I at length succeeded in find- 
ing a house where, in a room full of stretchers, I was allowed 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


175 


the ose of a wash-stand and a trunk, the former as table and 
the latter as chair, on which to indite my fond epistle. And 
there I wrote page after page, sheet after sheet, regardless of 
interruption, till dusk. Then I remembered that I had failed 
to keep an appointment -with Mr. Wade, and that 1 had eaten 
nothing since early morning 

My letter was still unfinished — that is, 1 had not said all that 
I had to say ; but, determined not to miss the morrow’s mail, 
I brought it to a premature conclusion, and repaired with it 
myself, through a drenching rain, and mud ankle-deep, to the 
post-office. After that I took a long breath of relief, and went 
off to the Prince of Wales Hotel in search of Mr. Wade, whom 
I had promised to meet three hours before. 

“ A pretty fellow you are to keep an appointment,” said he, 
when I found him, cue in hand, in the billiard-room. 

“ Where we are to sleep to-night, I don’t know,” said he, 
when the game was finished. “There are no beds to be got 
here, and I’m told there’s not sleeping-room to be let in all 
Melbourne. Here’s Doctor Sharpe ^the surgeon of the steam- 
er) in the same boat with us. But for waiting for you, we d 
have gone back to the ship.” 

“ I found important letters waiting for me, and I thought it 
better to reply by a ship that sails to-morrow than to take pas- 
sage by her myself.” 

“Yourself!” ejaculated both, with a laugh of surprise. 
“ That would be a good joke,” said Mr. Wade, “for a man to 
come out to Australia one day, and leave it the next — the 
quickest travelling on record I should think.” 

“Well, the fact is, I’m wanted at home. An unexpected 
event has occurred, and — I’m the happiest man alive.” 

“So you appear to be,” said he, with a smile, as he witness- 
ed my exultation; “your wet clothes evidently don’t dampen 
your spirits a bit. What’s the matter ? — any body dead '( If 
you run away from me now, after bringing me all the way from 
the Cape, I shall consider it base desertion.” 

I felt a desire to be alone in my great joy, and thought only 
of the now glowing future 

“ Where can we get beds, do you think ? ’ I asked the land- 
lord of the hotel. 


176 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


“That’s more than I can tell you,” said he. “I’ve been 
asked that five hundred times before to-day ; but there is a 
house in Flinders-street, where they may possibly do some- 
thing for you and he directed us how to find it. “If you 
can’t get a bed there, or anywhere else,” he continued, “you 
may have the hay-loft over the stable here to-night.” 

We thanked him for his proffered horse-pitality, and at about 
eight o’clock emerged from the hotel into the black and silent 
streets. 

No lamps, no pavement, no shining moon, no illuminated 
shops were there to cheer us on the way. All was mud and 
darkness. 

Over slippery streets, abounding in gulleys and lagoons, on 
this dismal April night, did we wend our way, laughing at our 
mishaps and defying garotters, for it was then a common oc- 
currence for strollers by night to be “stuck up not in the or- 
dinary sense of stuck-up people, be it observed, but by being 
brought to a dead halt at the revolver’s mouth, or with a blow 
of a heavy life-annihilator, commonly known as a “life-pre- 
server,” or at the point of a bowie-knife. It was either “ your 
money or your life,” or both, and woe unto the unarmed. We 
were not afraid, however, of such assassination ; we had each 
either a knife, or a sword-stick, or a revolver, and very cour- 
ageous indeed we professed to be, and very mirthful under the 
colonial ordeal we were. We arrived at the house, one of two 
standing alone, after sliding, stumbling, and sticking in the 
mud as we advanced to the door. Truly, Melbourne at that 
time was as much a ditch in winter as it was represented to be 
a dust- bin in summer. 

We knocked, and in answer to our inquiries were informed 
that we could have beds there for the night. We considered 
ourselves lucky. It was one of the old houses of the colony, 
and characterized chiefly by the numerous panes of broken 
glass, patched with brown paper and pieces of newspaper, 
which abounded in its windows, and by the general dinginess 
of its color and its broken exterior ; for both were of brick, 
covered over with plaster, and colored in imitation of stone ; 
and as large pieces of the plaster had crumbled and fallen away, 
their entire aspect was damp and wretched. Immediately 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


177 


on entering the house we were shown into the front parlor, or 
general sitting-room, where fourteen individuals of the gender 
maseuline, and order “new chum,” were assembled. 

The landlord, a dapper Englishman, of dark complexion and 
affable manners, invited us to make ourselves comfortable ; in 
conformity with which invitation we prepared to do so, although 
we found it what is commonly called tight work. With the 
exception of one digger, and three German Jew-traders, who 
kept up a continual and exclusive guttural chatter amongst 
themselves, the party was composed solely of new chums, so 
we were soon in conversation, each one enquiring what ship 
his neighbor came out by, and how many days they were on 
the voyage, and so on. 

Leaving twelve of the fourteen individuals behind us, we 
followed our guide up-stalrs, to a room on the first floor. On 
entering it we were somewhat flabbergasted to behold its 
entire surface covered with wooden stretchers, thirteen in 
number ; ten were occupied, and the feet of the sleepers were 
depending from the ends of several of them. The remaining 
three were at our own disposal. Beyond these thirteen 
stretchers, the room was totally unfurnished. There was a 
tallow candle burning on the mantel-piece, its feeble blaze 
being now and then obscured by the smoke emitted from a 
short black pipe, in which the occupant of the stretcher imme- 
diately under it had sought consolation. There were two 
Germans in the opposite corner, holding a very rapid and 
somewhat loud conversation, and whose attention was not for 
a moment diverted by our entrance ; the others were either 
cogitating, snoring or quietly asleep. 

We proceeded to undress, depositing our boots and hats at 
the feet of our respective stretchers on the floor. These were 
only furnished with a single blanket each, and that of a thin- 
ner texture and smaller dimensions than any I had ever before 
seen ; there were no pillows, no mattrasses. Looking up at 
the ceiling, I perceived that our corner -was saturated with rain 9 
and that the floor bore evidence of having been very recently 
soaked in consequence ; but, as several holes presented them- 
selves in the floor, the water had evidently been carried off into 
the regions below, almost as quickly as it had splashed down. 

M 


178 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


There was an interstice made, I observed, in the arrangement 
of the stretcher-beds, so as to allow room for the uninterrupted 
downfall of the drops. I had, unfortunately, taken possession 
of one of the stretchers on either side of this shower-bath. 
There is nothing bad that might not be worse, thought I, on 
the same principle that there is nothing so good but that it 
might be better. For instance, the stretcher might have been 
directly under this water-filter, and that would have been 
worse. 

It is a delightful thing going to bed sometimes, and it is but 
seldom that we shrink from it — small boys excepted — but on 
this occasion I positively did shrink from going to bed, for 
these naked-legged canvas-covered wooden stretchers were so 
dirty, and every thing, even the very atmosphere in the room, 
was so damp and cold, and the mosquitoes were buzzing about 
so numerously and maliciously, that the prospect of rest or 
sleep was by no means promising. 

Having made a pillow of a small leather bag that I carried 
with me, and covered myself as well as I was able with my 
coat, taking good care to keep the blanket as an outsider, I 
prepared to sleep. The black pipe was still emitting Smoke, the 
Germans were still in busy conversation, and the mosquitoes 
in active drone went feebly on the wing from sleeper to sleeper. 
Luckily the number as well as the individual strength of the 
latter had been much reduced owing to the cold season of the 
year, otherwise we should have been visited by an infliction 
even more painful than it was our lot that night to suffer 
under. 

The wind whistled, the rain beat, and the darkness 
without was unrelieved by a star, a moonbeam, or a street- 
lamp. Dimly flickered the candle in its socket. The Ger- 
mans ceased talking, and very soon were asleep. Then there 
was silence. A.nd thus hurried by the night, which brought 
morning to the thirteen occupants of that dingy room. 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


179 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

MY GUIDING STAR. 

I awoke amid a clatter of voices proceeding from the various 
stretchers. Every body appeared to have just awoke, and to 
be equally inclined to rise ; for a collection of feet almost 
simultaneously reached the floor, among the number of which 
my own were not missing: My first object was to glance at 
the weather, and the condition of the streets. A splash from 
the leak in the ceiling on the saturated boards of the room- 
floor, told me that it was either raining, or had been so but re- 
cently. The calmness of the swamp in front of the house de- 
noted a cessation of the watery downfall. But the puddles and 
the mud promised a day of difficult travel, although the newly- 
risen sun was decking the hills with the rainbow light of 
morning, most prominent among which, and immediately 
fronting the house, was Emerald Hill, on which the canvas 
tents of “ Canvas Town ” were gleaming in the sunlight. Be- 
tween the house and the hill the Yarra Yarra river wound its 
way ; following its course to the right, and in the direction of 
the bay, a long forest of masts was presented to the eye, ex- 
tending from the breakwater opposite the custom-house, while 
beyond and in the distance, seated on the broad waters of 
the bay, a fleet of tall shipping proclaimed the commerce of 
the clime. 

It was a very unfortunate thing that everybody got up at the 
same time, as, owing to the circumstance of there being but 
one wash-bowl in the house, the accommodation for lavatory 
operations was quite inadequate to the occasion. This one 
wash-bowl was placed on a stand, immediately outside of the 
room, and at the head of the stair-case, and near it was a much- 
worn tooth-brush, swinging by a cord from a nail in the wall, 
and evidently intended for universal use. ‘ ‘ Pro bono ‘publico ,” 
said Mr. Wade, jocularly, and pointing it out to me. I recoil- 
ed from the sight, and made my way with all possible expedi- 
tion down-stairs. Here I paid my five shillings, and having 
been joined by my companions, the door was unbolted, and 


180 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


we emerged into the open street, simultaneously with which, 
the mud of the previous day still on our boots, was brought in 
contact with the still more plentiful mud of to-day. We pro- 
ceeded together along the street, as far as the church, in a line 
with Prince’s Bridge, a large stone arch across the river. We 
took our way over this bridge for the joint purpose of refresh- 
ing ourselves by the walk, and making an inspection of Canvas 
Town. Even on the low western bank of the river, tents were 
here and there to be seen. 

Ascending Emerald Hill, and parsing an inclosed series of 
wooden buildings on our left, erected for the use, at a small 
rental, of houseless immigrants, we approached the precincts 
of the town. The view was not pleasing ; there was a look of 
wretchedness and disorder, of much ruin and hardship about 
it, which rather gave rise to melancho y reflections than buoy- 
ed up our hearts to face tin* first rough brunt of colonial life. 
The tents were of all shapes and sizes, and, on the whole, their 
condition was sorry looking. The ground was wet, and pud- 
dles were abundant ; everything in and around was damp from 
the recent rains, and the golden hues of the morning, just 
flashing athwart the landscape, blazed out in striking contrast 
to the woe-begone scene upon which we gazed. The sun was 
fast rising ; ribh, vivid, and inspiring lights were crowning 
the elevations, and very soon the aspect of things would be- 
come more comfortable, beneath the warm and vivifying in- 
fluence of the shining morning. It was even now, while we 
stood, undergoing a perceptible change for the better, and our 
hopes grew brighter as the sun-light spread more and more 
across the prospect, lighting up the shipping in the bay, and 
silvering the wave, lending life and animation to the sylvan 
vista far to the eastward, where here and there a white and 
stately villa gleamed out from amidst the inviting foliage, 
which lined the rolling banks of the over-flowing river, and 
lighting up in beauty of many shades the city to the northward 
-—the city just awaking to the life and activity of the day, in 
which each and all would renew the battle for gold ! 

As we stood, Canvas Town gradually revealed its inner life 
to our watchful gaze ; and one by one the occupants of the 
various tents emerged from their resting places into the outer 


ADKIFT WITH A "VENGEANCE. 


181 


world. The appearance of these individuals was about as for- 
lorn to the eye as their fleecy domiciles had been. Quickly, 
however, they bestirred themselves, and lighted their several 
fires ; but some had great difficulty in accomplishing this, ow- 
ing to the dampness of the materials employed. Curling 
lengths of smoke now became general throughout the camp, 
and several women and children made their appearance among 
the crowd of men. Every individual member of that transient 
community seemed alive to, as well as to appreciate, the force 
of being in a land where time was pre-eminently money ; and, 
acting under its influence, men endeavored to make the best 
and most ready use of it, and acted with a promptitude, decis- 
ion, and earnest, anxious industry, unknown in any but a gold- 
finding country ; but which the necessities of time and place 
goaded them to practise. It was no idle work, the game of 
life in Melbourne. 

Before the mail closed in the afternoon, I wrote another 
letter to Gertrude, inclosing one for her father in reply to his, 
in which I expressed my own joy at having lived to see my in- 
nocence established by the thief of my reputation, and thanked 
him for his generosity in sending me money to enable me to 
return to New York, although I stood in no present need of it. 
This I promised to do very soon ; explaining, however, that, 
in consequence of my stay at the Cape, I had only just arrived 
in Australia. 

To Gertrude I gave as connected a chronicle as possible, of 
my adventures in the wilds of Africa, telling her of all my hair- 
breadth escapes, strange diet, and numerous hardships ; and 
how, in the midst of those strange solitudes and perils, I had 
never ceased, day by day, and hour by hour, to think of her, 
and pray for her, longing to meet her, never to part again. 
The pent-up feelings of months overflowed in glowing lan- 
guage, and I passionately reiterated all that I had said before 
in those happy, peaceful days, when no thought of the dark 
shadow which was destined to cross my path loomed upon my 
mental horizon — when a bright career, following upon a long 
dark day of misery, promised to reward me for all I had suf- 
fered in the past. But words, after all, could but feebly ex- 
press the intensity of my emotions— the depth of that love 


182 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


which was bound up with my very life, and which, come weal 
or woe, failure or success, neglect or the reverse, could never, 
while existence chained me to the world, be effaced or dimin. 
ished. My soul was linked with hers. Death alone could 
psychologically divide us. I worshipped her day by 'day, and 
hour by hour. I knelt down night by night, and uttered her 
name in prayer. I cared not to live but for her sake. She 
was every thing to me. 

And how ennobled I felt in the knowledge that I had the 
love of such a woman ! It gave me courage, hope, resolution, 
strength. I stood before the world invincible. I was a proud 
man, and I had every reason to be so. But at her shrine I 
even wept over the memory of the past, and joy and sorrow 
contended within me for the mastery. I felt alternately de- 
pressed and elated, yet ever clung to the one bright hope 
which alone could carry me in triumph through the world. 


CHAPTER XXXiri. 

WE MEET AGAIN. 

Having posted ray letters, I strolled out with my com- 
panion, Reginald Wade, and Dr. Dawson Sharpe, the surgeon 
of the steamer, to see life. 

Entering an auction-mart, on one side of Collins Street, we 
had an opportunity of witnessing the auctioneer, hammer in 
hand. He was selling silver watches just then, in lots of half- 
a-dozen each. The market at this time was glutted with 
jewelry, and much of it was unsaleable. “Three-ten — three- 
ten — three-twelve-six — three-twelve-six — who says more ? — go- 
ing.” The half-dozen watches were meanwhile making a cir- 
cuit of the room ; and the harsh tongue of the dark, ill-featured 
auctioneer was clapping away like a bell-hammer. To my sur- 
prise, Dr. Sharpe made a bid at this crisis. “Three-fifteen,” 
shouted the auctioneer, nodding to him, “ three-fifteen — 
three- fifteen. Is there any advance upon three-fifteen?” and 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


183 


after gazing into the faces over the room for a coarse of se- 
conds, with his hammer and arm poised in the air, as if he was 
on the verge of some desperate deed, he let fall the instrument 
on the desk, and proceeded to submit the next lot. 

The lot had been knocked down to the doctor. He drew 
forth his purse to pay, and was in the act of counting out 
the three-fifteen, for the half-dozen watches as he thought, and 
a capital bargain too, when the auctioneer’s man came up to 
him with the watches, and a bill of the same. He thrust the 
three-fifteen into the hands of the assistant salesman as he was 
in the act of receiving the watches. The man held out his 
hand for more money. The doctor thought he wanted to write 
a receipt upon the bill, and so he glanced at it. 

“Sold to Mr. , 6 Geneva silver watches, at £3 15s. — 

£22 10s.” 

“Oh!” said the unlucky lancet-guider in dismay, “I 
thought the lot was to be three-fifteen. Oh ! I’ll not have 
them — give me back the money.” 

The man, however, without complying, shouted to the auc- 
tioneer. 

“ He thought he was to pocket the lot for three-fifteen.” 

Dr. Dawson Sharpe was wroth. 

“ Will you pay the money ?” said the low-bred, repulsive in- 
dividual in the box, evidently a Jew. Melbourne was half 
made up of Jews. “ Twenty-two-ten,” he continued. 

Meanwhile all eyes, as well as the auctioneer’s, were upon 
the purchaser. The doctor endeavored to explain that he had 
labored under a misapprehension as to the fact of hi- buying 
half-a-dozen watches at three fifteen each ; he thought he was 
to have the lot for that amount. 

“Turn him out,’ shouted the auctioneer, and he gnashed 
out something more betw; en his teeth, and had a sample ol 
the next lot passed to him. 

“ Turn that lime-juicer out — go out, Sir,” he shouted. 

“ Give me back my money,” said the doctor, in a rage, ad- 
dressing the man to whom he j)aid the three-fifteen. 

It was declared to be forfeited. The doctor indignantly re- 
monstrated. 

“ Go out — leave the room,” broke from a dozen mouths ; he 


184 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


was compelled to retreat, for the moment, before popular in- 
dignation at the interruption. 

The doctor thought of springing upon the auctioneer, and 
dragging him out of his box, for the insult he had offered ; but 
at my advice he postponed operations ; he, however, vowed 
vengeance upon the Barabbas, and after the sale was over he 
would seek redress or satisfaction in some way. I mentioned 
that he could force the auctioneer to put the lot up again, and 
only if it sold for less than the price mentioned, would his 
three-fifteen be taxed in the matter. 

“ Oh !” said he, “ the scamp will sell the lot to some accom- 
plice for three-fifteen less than he knocked them down to me 
at, and by so doing, I shall be done.” 

This was the first rude lesson I had submitted to me in colo- 
nial life. To lie and cheat, baffle and swindle, was at this time 
and place considered “ quite colonial,” and the perpetrator of 
these acts of dishonesty was almost applauded ; at any rate, he 
was looked upon as a sharp, ’cute fellow, and his gold was as 
acceptable as the bishop’s. 

After quitting the precincts of this mart of commerce, we 
crossed the street, and entered a much larger place of auction- 
sales. Our eyes were met as we entered by large bills and 
colored plans of proposed townships, setting forth in the most 
glowing terms the advantages of certain land that was then 
selling in specified lots. “A champagne lunch” was printed 
in large type at the foot of the bills, so we walked into the pre- 
sence of the auctioneer and the multitude with visions of a 
feast before us. Sure enough there was a champagne lun- 
ch eon, the corks were flying and the bottles were foaming on 
all sides, as we joined the throng. 

The capacious auction-room, choked up with packages of 
merchandise, and exhibiting a ceiling and sky^-light shrouded 
with cobwebs, had its walls hung with even more attractive 
colored plans of townships, and printed bills enlarging upon 
the beauties of the same, than had met our gaze at the outer 
entrance. What wealth was there not left in store for the for- 
tunate purchasers of these lots, especially of the “corner al- 
lotments suitable for public houses. ” There was the township 
of Jika Jika, the one now under sale; the site appointed foi 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


185 


Jika Jika would have likely been found a desolate swamp if any 
one had only taken the trouble to ride and wade to the de- 
scribed position, so many miles from the township of , and 

“adjoining the high road to Dandenong.” However, it did 
not much matter whether the township under sale was 
really as valuable as it was represented to be, or the reverse ; 
for, with very few exceptions, men bought to sell again, and 
so that they gained money by the transaction, (hey were care- 
less as to what they sold, or who they sold. 

The champagne luncheon was expected to, and did, 
no doubt, exercise its usual effect in raising the bids, and 
infusing spirit and speculation into the mass of buyers col- 
lected. The auctioneer, who had been busily engaged in talk- 
ing to a group of speculators, hammer in hand, eating sand- 
wiches, and drinking champagne at intervals, now took his 
place in the pulpit. All his oratorical powers were at once 
called into active requisition ; he had only to describe a glow- 
ing picture of the future of Jika Jika to insure high bids, and 
plenty of them, for, as he said, “those splendid — gentlemen, 
those magnificent allotments depicted on the plan before you.” 
He only wished that he was one of his audience, he would buy 
them all, and make six hundred per cent, by the ti ansae* 
tion. 

“Lot 1, a splendid corner allotment suitable for a public 
house and hotel, and adjoining the town hall (that was to be) 
in the great centre of the town.” 

Such was the attractive style of submitting these unattrac- 
tive plots of ground to the land-jobbers. The lot, of course, 
after much rhetorical description, which appealed more to the 
imagination than any thing of the kind I had before heard, was 
quickly knocked down at a prodigious price. Lot followed lot 
in rapid succession ; all sold, and the rivalry and excitement 
among the buyers became warmer and more reckless, as the 
champagne flowed, and the auctioneer continued to utter their 
praises. In the mean time, the very land that had only just 
been sold was being re-disposed of at a considerable advance, 
either to parties that had only just entered the room, or to 
others that regretted having let the lots slip them. Thus men 
were enabled to clear, in some cases, hundreds, and even 


186 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


thousands of pounds, before leaving the room, where they 
made their original purchase, for it very frequently happened 
that the lots advanced considerably in price as the sale pro- 
ceeded, and by this means alone the early purchasers were 
enabled to re-sell at a satisfactory profit. 

Leaving the scene of the land-sale, we strolled onwards, and 
entered another of the half-dozen auction-rooms in this street. 
There we found a very stout, thick-set, thick-voiced Yorkshire- 
man, haranguing his audience loudly from his pulpit, hammer 
in hand. He was enlarging upon the merits of some Cheshire 
cheese packed in tins, as we forced ourselves into the crowded 
room, accompanying his praises by an occasional swallowing 
of pieces of the commodity, which he declared to be the best 
“ he had ever tasted in his life.” 

“ And only half-a-crown a pound for this cheese, only half- 
a-crown a pound, I say, for this cheese.” 

Here he paused, and glanced round the room, and into the 
faces of his assembled hearers, which proceeding on his part 
was responded to by some one calling out “penny.” 

“ Penny,” repeated the auctioneer, lifting his hammer and 
his body, and seemingly infused with new life. “ Two-and- 
eight,” cried a voice. “ Two-and-eight, ” a nod; “two and 
nine,” another nod; “ two-and-ten.” “Eleven,” ejaculated a 
Jew, sitting on a keg of butter close to where I stood ; 
“eleven,” echoed the Yorkshireman ; “ two-and-eleven only 
bid for this splendid, well-conditioned cheese. Really, gentle- 
men, I must give up the sale, if you don’t bid faster;” a nod, 
and a loud shout of “ three shillings, three shillings a pound 
for this cheese, the best in the market, with the option of 
taking five or the lot ; there’s twenty of ’em.” 

“Penny,” shouted the Jew, seated on the butter. 

“ Three-and-two, ” almost simultaneously cried some one else. 

Here matters reached a crisis, and the auctioneer lifting 
himself into the air, with the manner of one desperate, and 
with his right arm elevated, and his hand clasping the weapon 
with which he appeared to be on the verge of doing some fatal 
act, and while he suddenly became silent, and allowed his 
searching eyes to do the work of his tongue, he brought 
down the hammer with a crack on the rim of his 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


187 


pulpit, and said, “ At three-and-two it is.” Dpon this decla- 
ration those present were relieved from the sudden silence and 
momentous pause which the manner and attitude of the 
auctioneer had induced, and all was bustle again. 

“Will you take five or the lot ?” asked the auctioneer. 

“ The lot,” was the reply. 

“You’ve a bargain,” remarked the salesman, and the next 
moment he proceeded to eat pickles from a quantity handed to 
him on a sheet of the “Argus” newspaper, which pickles one 
of his assistants had just pulled out in handfulls from a newly 
opened keg in the room. 

“Here, gentlemen, are the finest pickles I ever tasted — 
really beautiful pickles. Taste and try, and pass them round.” 
And so saying, he handed the newspaper and its contents to 
the show-man, who was at once pounced upon by those dis- 
posed for pickle-buying. 

“ Now, what shall I say per pound for the pickles ? What 
shall I say for these well-conditioned pickles ?” and so the 
scene of selling bv auction was repeated. The room was filled 
with all sorts of merchandise in all sorts of conditions, among, 
and standing, and sitting on the top of which the rough-look- 
ing men assembled, mostly of the Jew type, and having their 
legs encased in outside knee and thigh boots, were indiscrimi- 
nately gathered. As we were about to take our departure, the 
auctioneer finding the room and his work rather hot, cried out 
to his clerk, “ Here, take my coat,” at the same time stripping 
the latter garment off his back. It caused a slight laugh 
among the crowd, but he appeared to be considerably relieved 
by the subtraction that had taken place, and shouted, and ges- 
ticulated, and otherwise conducted himself with renewed en- 
ergy, and even more boisterous vigor than before. 

As I was leaving this delectable spot, I descried the gaunt 
form and weather-beaten features of Captain Whittlestick sail- 
ing towards me on the opposite side of the street, and I went 
across to join him. 

“ Hillo ! captain,” 1 exclaimed, while our eyes met in a 
glance of surprise, “when did you arrive?” 

“This morning, my boy, with a spanking breeze. When 
did you ?” and he grasped me warmly by the hand. 


188 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


“ Yesterday— just in time to beat you, but you made a quick 
voyage.” 

“ Yes, that’s my style. I crowded on all sail to make up for 
lost time. How soon did you leave after me ?” 

“About a week, but we called at several ports on the way, 
which delayed us, while you had a straight run.” 

“ Well, Washington, this meeting of ours reminds me of old 
times; doesn’t it you? You weren’t quite as handsome a 
fellow then as you are now, though I never saw a more pro- 
mising sprig for a boy of your age. Only think of my meeting 
you at the Cape of all the places in the world. I knew you at 
a glance, your face had changed so little. I'd seen no one 
from the wreck of the unlucky ‘Skimmer of the Seas’ before. 
Miss Morgan, the young lady who took you to New York, in- 
vited me to call and see her, but I never did. Poor girl, she 
lost her only brother and her aunt in the ship. When I met 
you first you told me, I think, she was still living there.” 

“Yes,” I observed, “until last fall I was h clerk in her 
father’s banking house, in Wall Street. Why didn’t you call 
upon her ? She would have been glad to see you.” 

“ Don’t ask me that,” said he, “I hadn’t the heart to meet 
her or any one else from that ship, although the owners ac- 
quitted me of all blame, and I soon got another vessel. We 
had a terrible time there, Wash, and you were a good friend of 
mine then. It almost makes me shudder w r lieu I think of it. 
You’ll always find a friend in me though,” and the bronzed and, 
brawny sailor seemed actually touched as he gave me his 
horny hand again. 

“ I’ve always thought,” he continued, “a merciful Provi- 
dence got me out of that scrape j ust in the nick of time, and 
I’ve thanked God ever since for saving us. But what an awful 
loss of life there was. We shall never have a narrower escape 
I guess than that, and but for you I’d have been a dead man.” 

Before parting he told me where I could find him while he 
remained in port, and I bade him good-bye, to rejoin my 
companions. 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


189 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

AN UNEXPECTED CALL FROM A NEW QUARTER. 

I had only been in Melbourne three days, when a New York 
ship arrived, bringing me another letter from Gertrude. It 
was more than I expected, and oh ! how glad I was. The 
familiar handwriting filled my heart with new joy, and I felt 
thankful for being there to receive it as soon as it came. 

I eagerly but carefully tore open the envelope, and unfolded 
the precious contents ; and as I did so, a small newspaper* 
cutting dropped into my hand. I read it first, and judge of 
my surprise when I found it to be an advertisement thus 
worded : 

^ Information Wanted of Washington Edmonds, aged 
A twenty-three, who lived when a child with Kate Wilkins, 
at Greenfield, near Boston, Mass., and subsequently with Mrs. 
Bangs, the housekeeper of the Medical College in the city of 
Boston ; and who, in the year 1846, left his home there, and 
has not since been heard of. If living, he is requested to 
communicate immediately with the undersigned, respecting 
family matters of great importance. Any one giving infor- 
mation of the said Washington Edmonds, will be liberally re- 
warded. If known to be dead, proof of the fact will be paid 
for. — John Fowler, Attorney and Counsellor at Law, 10 State 
Street, Boston, Mass.” 

I stood almost dumbfounded with amazement, and a visible 
agitation took possession of me. What could this mean ? Was 
the mystery about to be exploded, and would the strange wrongs 
of a life-time be redressed ? Who was advertising for me ? 

Was it my father, my mother — my ? Had I been the 

victim of some dark scheme to defraud me of my birthright, 
and had the fact only been just discovered ? or was the plotter 
in that strange drama, in which I was handed over to the 
tender mercies of Kate Wilkins, himself repentant, and de- 
sirous of atoning in the future for a base injury in the past? 
I had through life believed myself the object of some secret 
machinations, and I never failed to associate that dark-faced 
man in the carriage, described by Mrs. Wilkins, with the 


190 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


cause of the mysterious proceeding which left me in the arms 
of a strange woman, in a lonely country-road at nightfall. 
There must have been some strong motive for all that occurred 
then. Who was that dark-faced man, entreating a startled 
woman at the roadside, and tempting her with gold and bright 
promises, to take home the babe that lay in the arms of a little 
girl in the carriage, from which he had just alighted ? From 
whence had he brought it ? If his story were true, why such 
anxiety and care, and offers of money, and secrecy of move- 
ment ? “ Depend upon it,” said I to myself, “ that man, who- 

ever he was, whether acting for himself or another, was ac- 
complishing a cheat in doing what he did that night. I be- 
lieve him intuitively to have been a knave, and that money 
was the root of his crime.” Hastily turning to the letter, I 
read: 

“New York, January 23, 1853. 

“My Dear Washington: No letter yet. What can have 
become of you ? I have been waiting, oh ! so anxiously, for 
many long, long, weary months, to hear from you ; and some- 
times I fear that the worst must have happened, and that I 
shall never see you more. I write this in the midst of my 
suspense, but with a dreadful feeling of uncertainty as to 
whether you will ever receive it. 0 my dear Washington t 
how you would pity me if you knew how very -wretched I 
really am. I cannot write this without tears, and my heart 
seems breaking all the time. I begin to feel as if I didn’t 
much care what became of me ; and, if it were not for hoping 
against hope, that all will yet be well with you, I think I 
should die. I am growing older and more haggard in appear- 
ance every day, I do so fret and pine about you. My mother 
tries to console me ; but what consolation can any one here 
afford me ? I can only look to Heaven for relief in my great 
grief, and I always find comfort in looking from Nature up to 
Nature’s God. 

“My mind is so much absorbed by the one theme that I can 
hardly bring myself to think of anything else. But there is 
one event that I write about specially, and it is of the greatest 
interest to you. The inclosed advertisement for you appear- 
ed in the New York papers, and father answered it to say that 


ADRITF WITH A VENGEANCE. 


191 


you had gone to Australia, but were expected to return. He 
has heard nothing more about it yet. It is about a week since 
he wrote. Now what do you think this can be ? Perhaps 
some of your relatives are searching for you, and the mystery 
is cleared up. I am very anxious to know more, and have 
every expectation that we shall very .soon, when I will write 
immediately, giving you all the particulars. 

“I read such a dreadful account of an affray with ‘Bush- 
rangers,’ in Australia, a few days ago, that I can hardly resist 
a feeling of apprehension that you have met with some similar 
disaster, which has prevented you from writing. And per- 
haps you are lying sick in a strange land, with no one to care 
for or help you. Oh ! how my heart does flutter when I think 
of all that may have happened to you, and what silent anguish 
I suffer ; for hope deferred — the hope of a letter — maketh the 
heart sick, indeed. How I do wish you had written, and how 
I grieve and cry because you have not. But I will endure as 
long as life will let me, although I have a presentiment that 
unless I do hear from you, that will not be for long. The days 
and nights hang upon me very heavily, and the world seems to 
have lost its charm since you went away. I care for nothing 
but to think of you. I droop ; I have grown pensive and un- 
happy. I have been watching for the post-man for months, 
and every time he comes I almost tremble lest there should be 
no letter from you ; and often, when I find there is none, I sit 
down and cry. It is a relief to me to tell you how I feel, even 
when I am uncertain whether you will ever receive these lines, 
and that if you do they may possibly be my last. 

“I seldom go out ; but I sometimes think I shall go dis- 
tracted if I don’t seek some change ; and mother is always 
urging this upon me ; but I have no heart for society, and I 
can hardly bear the sight of strange faces in the street, for I 
always find myself looking anxiously for you, thinking that 
you might have just returned. Vain and foolish hope, I know ; 
but, Washington, dearest, I cannot help it ; and I invariably 
come home feeling sad and disappointed. 

“I must not forget to tell you that Mr. Perkins died on the 
morning after we visited him in the prison, and before father 
could do anything towards obtaining his release. What an 


102 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


unfortunate thing that was. I should have been so happy but 
for him. Alas ! how dependent we are upon others for our 
happiness, and how often the innocent suffer because of the 
guilt of others ! 

“I can only resign myself to the care of an all-merciful 
Providence, and pray that He may guide and protect you over 
the shoals and quicksands of life, and that all will yet be well. 
Tears fill my eyes as I write ; my bosom heaves ; I can hardly 
draw my breath ; I feel the old choking sensation in my 
throat; my hand trembles; I sob aloud; so, Washington, 
dearest! no more now. I am overcome. 

‘ ‘ Y our loving Gertie. ” 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

THE VISION BY THE KIVER. 

The grief which this letter caused me was intense, and again 
I reproached myself bitterly, while the hot tears of regret 
coursed down my pallid features. I would have sacrificed my 
very existence in atonement, if it would not have been rob- 
bery towards her ; for I yet hoped and hoped ardently, to mar- 
ry the woman that wrote me thus, and the death she prophe- 
sied would have caused a blank in my life which I had no de- 
sire to survive. I wept like a woman that night on the banks 
of the Yarra Yarra, and imagination carried me to her side, 
and I felt that the force of my mere will had sent comfort to 
her heart. 

The stream rippled at my feet ; the roar of the surf at Sand- 
ridge surged upon my ear, when suddenly I felt a hand placed 
on my shoulder. I looked round, but no one was there ! 
Afar off I seemed to see a ghost-like phantom receding heaven- 
ward through the air. I recognized the form; it was that of 
Gertrude, robed in white and surrounded by a divine halo. 
Immediately the presentiment of her death seized upon me, 
and in distraction I plunged into the flowing river and dis- 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


193 


appeared beneath its silver surface, for the moonlight made the 
air almost as clear a3 day, and lent its lustre to all around. 
***** 

I was a practised swimmer ; but I had no inclination to put 
forth an effort. If she had gone I had no desire to stay. She 
was all in all to me. She was life, vitality, all that made the 
world worth living for. She was the living idol I worshipped ; 
if that were dead, then I had no wish to live. I would join 
her, or perish for evermore. My love was too deep, too 
heartfelt, too enthralling, too sincere, to allow me to exist with- 
out her. No ! our lives must terminate together. We were 
one. Separation for ever in this world would be agony which 
I could not endure. The river murmured, the moon 
shone, and I drifted towards that bourne whence, happily for 
us all, no traveller returns. Suddenly I felt a tug at my 
hair. 

I imagined at first that some intrepid Newfoundland dog had 
interested himself in my behalf, but a human voice dispelled 
the thought. I was drawn to the river’s bank, and in a semi- 
unconscious state I lay there. 

Who was it that had rescued me ? 

Looking upward I saw the figure of a man leaning over me. 

Then I heard a voice. It was strangely familiar. It was 
Reginald Wade’s ! 

“ How came you to jump into the river, old boy, and give 
me the trouble of fishing you out ?” 

“ I wanted to die — to drown myself— to follow her to heaven 
—to 

“What’s all that?*’ 

A suspicion crossed my mind. 

“ Was it you that touched me on the shoulder ?*' 

“Yea, verily, it was.” 

“You!” I said with faint emphasis, and making an effort to 
rise. 

“ Yes ; who else did you think it was ?” 

“I thought it was her spirit.” 

“Oh! I see you’re dreaming. Come along home.” 

I sank down again, with my head upon my arm, wondering 
if she were really dead, or if what I had seen was purely the 

S 


194 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


effect of imagination. But I was not in a thinking mood ; 
reason seemed almost to have abandoned me, and the shock I 
had received had prostrated my physical strength. 

If she were dead, I would rather that Reginald Wade had 
not appeared to save me ; if not, then I was grateful to him. 

But I lay there nearly incapable of effort, a half-drowned 
man, with dim fantastic sights flitting through the chambers of 
a bewildered brain. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

STARTLING AND ROMANTIC DEVELOPMENTS. 

I managed to crawl to the Prince of Wales hotel with him, 
and here we shared a room in common. On the next morn- 
ing I awoke feeling physically little the worse for the adventure 
of the previous night, but with a mind full of gloomy forebod- 
ings. My imagination had been very much excited, and I was 
still laboring under its effects. I felt depressed and ashamed 
of my attempt at suicide, and my face flushed, and I grew 
angry at the thought of my own folly and weakness. Why sui- 
cide ? It is only the refuge of cowards. Why should I, who 
had bearded the lion in his den, thus shrink before a shadow 
and seek in oblivion, relief — and from what ? Had I not done 
a wrong to the woman I loved ? My only excuse was, that love 
is next door to insanity, and I had gone a step too far uncon- 
sciously. 

***** 

A week after this I received another letter from Gertrude. I 
read it with a wild avidity, and thus it ran ; 

“New-York, January 30, 1853. 

‘‘Dearest Washington: O, Washington, dearest! I am 
almost distracted at not hearing from you. What can be the 
reason of this long, painful silence ? I strive in vain to ac- 
count for or reconcile myself to it. But I will not despair. 


ADBIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


195 


Oh ! if yon are alive why have yon not written ? If you only 

knew how I feel you would My thoughts are wandering, 

so that I cannot finish the sentence. 

“I write now to tell you that we have heard more of the 
advertisement, and from no less a_ personage than your 
mothers uncle, Mr. Edward Beresford — I have his card — who 
came all the way from England to find you. 

“ From all that father could gather from him, it appears that 
you are the central figure in a very complicated case, and it 
has excited me more than you can imagine. 

“Your father, he said, was a Mr. Duncan, a native of New- 
foundland, and the son of the bishop there, and while on a 
visit to England, he became acquainted with and married the 
daughter of Sir George Gibson. She had a large fortune in 
her own right, and a life interest in it, excepting a small por- 
tion lor her own use, was settled on your father at the time of 
the marriage ; and afterwards she made a will devising the 
whole of her property absolutely to him, in the event of no 
children surviving her. 

“ I say this to let you know exactly ; and if I left it to father 
to tell, he might forget half the story. 

“ Less than a year afterwards they left England for a tour in 
America. They went first to Newfoundland, and then came on 
to the United States ; and they were living at Boston when 
you were born. 

“ It is now charged by your mother’s relations, founded on 
some discovery they have recently made, that your father 
took measures to destroy your identity, with the presumed 
object of possessing himself of the property devised by the 
will. 

“When you were only a week old, he induced your mother to 
consent to your being put in charge of a nurse — her health 
being delicate. He then told her that he had made satis- 
factory arrangements with a woman, who called on* the next 
day, and was seen by your mother. She did not, however, 
allow her to take the child out of her sight ; but soon after- 
wards she became very sick with a fever, which made her 
delirious, and it was during this illness that you were removed, 
and she never saw you afterwards. 


196 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


“ When she got better her husband told her that you were 
dead, and showed her the undertaker’s bill for burying you ; 
and took her to Mount Auburn Cemetery and pointed out your 
grave, and the monument in the stone-cutter’s hands, which 
was soon to cover it ; and the nurse who had dressed you in 
your white sepulchral clothes condoled with her on her loss. 

* ‘ But the suspicious circumstance has transpired that your 
father procured the dead body of an infant child at that very 
time from the city hospital, and it was this he buried as his 
own. Kate Wilkins is to be an important witness in the case; 
for it was through her that you were traced to Mrs. Bangs’s. 
Then there is Mr. Barker, a Boston lawyer, who had something 
to do with this strange affair, and the girl who accompanied 
your father in the carriage on that night when he gave you to 
Mrs. Wilkins in the lane. The girl it seems was a younger 
sister of the nurse, and the nurse it was who obtained the dead 
baby for your father, and brought it home secretly the same 
night. She has been found and confesses to the fraud she lent 
herself to, and for which she was paid two hundred and fifty 
dollars. 

“ Your father is now in Europe, but your mother came over 
with her uncle, to assist in making these investigations. She 
has been separated from her husband, I understand, since she 
made the discovery. I hear that several London detectives 
were also here for the same purpose. I expect to see all about 
it in the papers every day, and I am sure it will create quite a 
sensation. You are to be written to by the next mail, 
asking you to return at once ; and I don’t know what isn’t to 
be done by the lawyers in the case. ' 

“I expect to see or hear of your mother before long ; but 
all I have written is only what father told me. And is it not 
wonderful ? What a romance in real life. I do hope that you 
will get this as soon as it reaches Melbourne — it will make you 
so glad — and that you will lose no time in returning, for my 
poor heart is breaking to know what has become of you. 

“ With constant prayers for your safety, I remain, my dear 
Washington, 

“ Your ever loving 

“ Gertee. * 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE* 


197 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

A NEW DISCOVERY. 

My worst suspicions and my best anticipations were realized. 
The secret was divulged, the mystery unravelled. Right had 
asserted itself through the mist of Time, and Truth and Jus- 
tice, as if by a natural law, were undoing the work of Evil, 
whose triumph is but for a day. Magna est veritas et preval- 
ent. 

What a strange, romantic story I had to reflect upon ! 
What startling details of parental fraud and duplicity ! Alas! 
that my mother should have been the wife of such a man ! If 
there be one guilty craving baser than another, it is that which 
would lead a man to rob his wife of her child, and his child of 
its inheritance, for the sake of paltry gold. Such a one must 
have lost all the higher instincts of humanity, and become 
dead to every noble impulse and sense of duty. He must have 
hardened his nature to crime, and cruelty must have written 
its mark in every line of his face, and planted the heart of a 
brute in the breast of a man. He must have consigned his 
moral being to hopeless degradation, and shaken hands with 
Infamy. Against him the gates of heaven must have closed 
forever. 

And was I the child of such a man ? I would rather not have 
heard it. I would rather not have been born. The man who 
had so grossly wronged the woman he had sworn to honor and 
succor through life, and cast her child adrift on the world, 
and all for mere pelf, could have no claim upon me for filial 
affection, and I had a right to regard him as an enemy. 

These were the thoughts that followed my receipt of the 
letter, and I felt that my indignation was righteous. But my 
mother! How the heart-strings fastened around the sublime 
name ! She was living, and I should yet see her ; the mys- 
terious ideal I had worshipped so tenderly was at length found, 
and before long I might hope to twine my arms in fondness 
round her sacred form. The sense of her reality almost be- 
wildered me by its novelty. Before, her existence had always 


198 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


appeared mythical ; it was now presented to me as a fact. 
The great discovery of my life was made. 

I had hitherto communicated no details of my early history 
to Reginald Wade, but I now felt disposed to tell him the 
strange story. 

“Wade,” said I to him on the evening following my receipt 
of Gertrude’s last letter, “I don’t think I shall be able to 
join you in that trip to the diggings. I am urged to return to 
New York immediately. A letter I received to-day makes it 
more imperative than ever.” 

“ Oh ! what matter what they say ? Let them wait. They’d 
laugh at you for your pains, if you ran away from Australia, 
after being in the country less than a fortnight.” 

“But I’m anxious to get back myself— very anxious. I’m 
the newly-found heir to a large property. It’s altogether the 
most curious affair you ever heard of.” 

Mr. Wade opened his eyes in wonder, surprised doubtless 
more by my enthusiasm of manner than my words. 

“By Jove! you remind me of the Man of Mystery, or The 
Mysterious Man, I forget which, I once read of in a novel. 
Don’t keep me in suspense. What is it ? Any romantic de- 
velopments ? 

“ Yes,” said I, “ and if you’ll put on a grave faceand listen 
I’ll tell you the history of the case. ” 

“Mr. Edward Beresford!” interrupted my companion, when 
I mentioned that gentleman as my great uncle on the maternal 
side. “An uncle of mine married into the Beresford family, 
and I know an Edward Beresford. I wonder if it’s the same ? 
But go on.” 

I resumed my reading from Gertrude’s letter. 

“Mr. Duncan, the son of the bishop of Newfoundland!” he 
exclaimed, repeating my words with a wild look of amaze- 
ment, and springing from his chair in great excitement. “I 
am thunderstruck ! Do you know who I am ?” 

“No,” said I, sharing his agitation, and feeling that I was 
on the brink of some new discovery. 

“Well then I’ll tell you. My mother was the daughter of 
Bishop Duncan, and her brother Henry married the only 
daughter of Sir George Gibson. If you are their son, you’re 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


199 


my cousin,” and lie extended his hand. “ This is strange, cer- 
tainly. Then you actually dined with your own father in Lon- 
don, and didn’t know it.” Do you remember that strange 
dream of mine ? How wonderful it seems in the light of events I 
I shall believe in dreams after this.” 

The recollection again flashed upon me that the dark-com- 
plexioned man to whom Reginald Wade had introduced me, 
and who dined with us at the Athenaeum Club, was a Mr. 
Henry Duncan. 

I trembled with emotion. 

“Was he really my father?” I asked in tremulous accents. 

“ If that letter tells the truth, he was most certainly. Hea- 
vens! what a romance! If he had only known it. I can 
hardly believe him to have been such a villain. I always sup- 
posed him to be childless. He had never but the one that was 
supposed to have died in America. If it can be proved that 
.. what you haVe read to me is fact, you are heir to property worth 
more than a hundred thousand pounds; and what you gain 
Henry Duncan loses, besides his loss of reputation and ” 

I drew a long breath, and sighed heavily. 

“ I can quite understand your feeling anxious to return,” he 
resumed, “and since you’ve made this revelation to me, I’m 
determined, with your permission, to go with you. I want to 
be on the spot when the case is tried : and I may as well tell 
you now as later, that this will be bad news for my father, who 
I know has lent Henry Duncan a considerable sum of money, 
which there is now of course little or no chance of his ever get- 
ting back.” 

“ I’m sorry for that,” said I ; “ it’s an unfortunate circum- 
stance in the case.” 

“Yes, so far as it goes it is, but it would be far better that 
nine hundred and ninety-nine should be ruined in such a way 
than that one should be cheated of his birth-right. Give me 
your hand, old fellow ; if it cost me every shilling I have, or 
ever hope to have in the world, I’d do all I could to secure 
you justice. You have been wronged, bitterly, cruelly 
wronged, and you must be recompensed for the injury and 
loss.” Then he paused, but continued : “I can hardly believe 
my eyes and ears. That we should have been so long together* 


200 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


bo intimately associated, without being conscious of our rela- 
tionship ; and that such a web of mystery should have sur- 
rounded you without a word having been said before on the 
subject; and that all should have transpired as it has done, is 
to me something so marvellous that I can hardly reconcile my- 
self to its reality. It seems more like a fiction or a dream 
than a series of actual occurrences in this matter-of-fact age. 
You may consider yourself henceforth the hero of a drama in 
real life, in which I am one of the subordinate characters. To 
you the world has indeed been a stage, but there are few such 
players.” 

I paced the room in excitement, rapidly revolving in my 
mind the strange events of my checkered career ; and all night 
through I lay awake, joyfully yet anxiously looking forward to 
meeting my long-lost mother, and marrying the girl I loved. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

A DEADLY ENCOUNTER. 

There was no steamer loading at the time for any part of 
Europe or America, and no passenger ship was advertised to 
sail from Melbourne to the United States till more than a 
month later. Sailors deserted their ships as soon after their 
arrival as possible, and decamped to the gold diggings in 
search of the big nuggets of which they had heard so much. 
The consequence was that very few of all the vessels in port 
were able to find crews at any price, so hundreds of them re- 
mained at anchor in Hobson’s Bay for months together, waiting 
for sailors to man them. But little reliance was, therefore, 
to be placed upon punctuality of departure, even when the day 
of sailing was advertised. In many cases men who had worked 
before the mast on their way out to Australia could now have 
become shipowners, and the temptation for others to do as 
they had done was obviously very great. 


ADKIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


201 


I called at the address given me by Captain Whittlestick, and 
consulted him as to the best way of getting back to New York. 

“I calculate you’ll have to take it easy. I don’t know ex- 
actly when I shall get away with my ship, but I guess I’ll be off 
in three or four weeks, or at least about as soon as any of ’em 
after my cargo’s discharged. I’m bound for Callao, in ballast, 
and from there shall go to the Chincha Islands and load with 
guano for Liverpool. If you like I’ll take you and your friend 
to Callao as passengers, and there you can step on board the 
English steamer for Panama, and then cross the Isthmus and 
take the Aspinwall steamer for New York. You’ll get there 
quicker in that way, I guess, than by going direct by a sailing 
vessel.’' 

“Thank you, Captain, for your offer,” I replied, “and if we 
can’t do better, we’ll certainly avail ourselves of the Orinoco . 
I should like to see South America, and we might as well go 
that way as any ocher.” 

“Yes, sir-ree!” ejaculated Whittlestick, at the same time 
rolling a quid of tobacco in his mouth and resting his limbs 
by placing his feet on the top of a chair. “ Do your travelling 
and sight-seeing while you’re young, and when you’re old you’ll 
be content to stay at home and feel yourself as happy as a 
clam at high water. I’d been all round the world twice before 
I was twenty, and I’ve had my backbone cut into tooth-picks 
since then, yet I’m not a very old salt even now. Y’es, sir, 
I’ve seen pretty near all there is to be seen in all creation, and 
that comes of beginning to see the world with your eyes wide 
open when you’re young, old cuss. You’ll find very few, I 
guess, whose timbers have been shivered like mine, but I 
never say die, for while there’s life there’s hope.” 

Reginald Wade approved of the South American route, but 
signified his accommodating spirit by saying, “I’ll go anywhere 
and anyhow you please, if you'll only make that trip to the dig- 
gings with me. I can’t leave Australia, old fellow, without 
seeing something of the Gold Fields ; it would be absurd — eh ? 
We can drive there and back easily, and have plenty of time 
to spare before the Orinoco , or any other vessel that we can 
sail by, is ready, and we might just as well be seeing some- 
thing of the country as vegetating in Melbourne,” 


202 


ADEIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


I assented, on condition that we were to return in time to 
take passage by the first vessel advertised to sail for the United 
Slates, in the event of Captain Whittlestick’s ship not being 
ready, and accordingly we equipped a dog-cart and tandem, 
and on the next day started for Mount Alexander. 

Previous to my departure I mailed another letter to Ger- 
trude, and anxiously enquired if there was any letter for me at 
the post-office, but found there was not. 

It was noon when, leaving Elizabeth Street behind, we 
headed towards the village of Elemington, along the main road 
to all the gold-fields. The land on either side was uninviting, 
and studded here and there with groups of tents ; the aspect 
of the former appeared to be undergoing some change, which, 
however much it might enhance its future value, could cer- 
tainly not be said to have added to its picturesqueness. In 
some places it was evidently being cleared for building pur- 
poses ; in other and rocky places, it was being dug into quar- 
ries, while everywhere the road was as unfinished as the land- 
scape looked cut up. However, the work of road-making was 
progressing briskly, for we passed several gangs of men level- 
ling it by spade-cutting and stone-shovelling. Here and there, 
too, were collected piles of stones, sitting in front of which 
were men who, before they came to Australia, had been ac- 
customed to a very different kind of occupation, engaged in 
breaking them. Men of all professions, and gentlemen of no 
profession whatever., were frequently to be found exercising 
themselves on the roads,” in return for ten shillings a day, 
with a free tent, wood, and water. Such employment was the 
common resource of thousands who were, for the time, desti- 
tute of means, and could procure no other occupation. Law- 
yers, surgeons, and even clergymen, were often to be found 
acting as bullock drivers ; and similar changes occurred to 
many an ex-habitue of St. James’s, to whom the club-house 
and the park had once been as familiar as were now the road- 
making pick and shovel. But still, ten shillings a day was a 
sum worth earning, and really the work was not hard, for, in 
the first place, the majority were so unaccustomed to manual 
labor, that they could not work hard; and, in the next place, 
they were in a gold country, and they wouldn’t. 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


203 


Now and again we passed the skeletons or carcasses of cattle 
lying at the road-side, which had sunk under the heavy dray- 
labor of the goods traffic with the mines ; and these, with other 
signs, acted as a fair index of the state of the colony at the 
time, and of the premature mortality brought about even more 
among men than the brutes that were goaded to their toil by 
the sudden influx of population, and the struggle for gold. The 
energies of the frame were overtaxed, and what with that, and 
wet and windy tents, and unwholesome food, thousands were 
hurried into premature graves, and now rested among the un- 
recorded dead on the diggings and elsewhere. Bullock and 
horse-teams were passed by the dozen, each heavily laden with 
the necessaries of life, and the requirements of the population 
at the mines. Equestrians and pedestrians, singly or in 
droves, lent animation to the entire road ; the former were 
chiefly diggers, who were returning to the mines, most likely 
after what they called a frolic. Those on foot were either 
“ new chums,” who were unable, or experienced hands who 
were unwilling, to afford the expense of a horse ; and each of 
these carried more or less of a kit, slung across the shoulder. 
The main street of Elemington, through which all the traf- 
fic passed, was alive with throngs of the going and returning. 

On arriving at a wooden bridge, built across the Salt Water 
river, we were charged a toll of two shillings ; this construc- 
tion yielding, by this means, to its owner, nearly a thousand 
pounds per week. We now came upon an extensive plain, at 
first bearing crops, but, after a few miles, bare of every thing 
but stunted grass. Here, far away to the west and north, 
thirty miles at least, the view was horizoned by a chain of 
rolling hi Is, so lending something of the picturesque to a flat 
extent of country, whose stunted trees had been cut down and 
hacked to pieces for firewood by the straggling occupants ^ f 
various tents and shanties, and travellers, and whose ragged 
stumps were alone left to add ugliness to monotony. More- 
over, the plain was more or less cut up with the marks of 
heavy drays, several of which were now to be seen dragging 
their slow length across the prospect ; this divergence from 
the main road having been adopted in order to escape the 
mud and gullies with which it abounded. Pedestrians and 


204 


ADKIET WITH A VENGEANCE. 


horsemen, however, continued to follow each other over the 

beaten track. 

Towards sun-set we reached the vicinity of the Green Hills, 
a pastoral station, twenty-five miles from Melbourne. The 
scenery at this point suddenly changed, and a beautiful pros- 
pect greeted the eye. A picturesque confusion of hill and dale, 
backed by mountain lands and giant forest, were the most pro- 
minent traits of the landscape ; while near us, and between, 
stretched a fertile patch of grass-land, intersected by a rivulet. 
After this we continued on through the forest highway a few 
miles further, till we reached the Bush Inn, a house of call 
for everybody, and being on the borders of the busfi, notori- 
ously frequented by bushrangers. Here we put up for the 
night. 

On the following morning we resumed our journey, the road 
leading through the Black Forest, where the gullies were even 
worse than before, and the danger of being “ bailed up,” con- 
siderable. The reader will understand that “bailing up” is 
synonymous with “ sticking up.” The usual plan of proceed- 
ing with bush-rangers, who generally travel in couples, is to 
ride up. one on either side of the intended victim, and each, 
simultaneously, to present his pistol at the head of the object 
of their attentions, with a request that he halt and deliver, 
which, if he be wise, he promptly complies wfith. He is then 
searched, and every thing serviceable about him is appropri- 
ated. If, however, he asks for sufficient money to carry him 
to his destination, these fellows in general comply ; but if he 
makes much display of his indignation, he runs a great risk of 
being tied to a tree, and left there till some passer-by liberates 
him. 

The Black Forest, alike with the other forests of Australia, 
was as light and airy as an English park, affording but little 
shelter from the vivid sun-light which blazed above us. 

“ Talk of the sun, and lo ! a ray appears” — a polite version 
of the original. We were joking on the subject of bush- 
rangers, when suddenly two men rode up to us, at a rapid 
pace, and presented pistols. 

We were too well used to arms not to use them, and instinc- 
tively I seized my evolver, and fired at the nearest man, and 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


205 


received a shot through my hat in return. Wade fired at the 
other, and the bullet took effect, for the man fell back appa- 
rently wounded, upon which his horse bounded off, with the 
rider still on his back. 

With my revolver pointed at the head of the one I had shot 
at, who I now saw was bleeding profusely from a wound near 
the right shoulder, I eyed him steadily. Had he raised his 
horse-pistol to fire the second barrel, he would have been a 
dead man in five seconds. 

“Don’t fire,” said he; “we are old friends. I know 
you.” 

Through a somewhat altered exterior I recognized the 
mysterious individual I had helped out of the sack in the 
kitchen-closet, at Mrs. Bangs's, and with whom I had subse- 
quently renewed acquaintance so unexpectedly in the New 
York boarding-house. 

“This is a strange meeting,” said I. “How came you 
here ?” 

He cast a pitiful look at his bleeding breast. 

“You saved my life once ; you’ve taken it now,” he gasped, 
without heeding my question. “I forgive you. I’ll not take 
yours. Gentlemen, good-by ! Don’t fire at a retreating man,” 
and he wheeled his horse round to depart. 

“ Stay,” said I, “ you’ve nothing more to fear from us. Let 
me dress your wound. Dismount!” 

“ Honor bright?” said he. 

I reassured him by a nod, and he complied. A gush of blood 
came from his wound, and trickled to the ground, as he made 
the effort. 

“I'm bleeding tc death,” he said faintly and sadly. 

“ Wait a moment, and I’ll staunch your w r ound.” 

“ Have you a flask?” 

I handed it to him, and he drank its contents at a draught. 

“ Now sit down, and lean your head against that stump.” 

He did so, and laying his breast and shoulder bare, I beheld 
a fissure, through which the vital fluid was ebbing in a copious 
stream. 

“1 cannot recover; O God! I shall die,” he exclaimed, 
his courage forsaking him at the prospect of death. 


206 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


< 

“ Don’t trouble yourself about that. Keep quiet,” and I 
probed the wound for the bullet, but it was too far in to be 
reached by my finger or my pen-knife, and I had no instru- 
ment with me with which I could have extracted it. This be- 
ing the case, all that I could do was to dress his wound, and 
lift him into the dog-cart. Then I mounted his horse, leaving 
Reginald to drive, while I rode in company to Kyneton, where 
we obtained medical assistance. But the surgeon was no more 
successful in his attempt to extract the bullet than I had been, 
and he finally abandoned all hope, and re dressed the wound. 

The patient was easy but weak, and called constantly for 
brandy, of which he drank a bottle in two hours, without 
showing its effect. He appeared friendly and talkative, and I 
drew him into conversation respecting his former life. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

DESPERATE DEEDS. 

“ Ah ! ” said the wounded bushranger, with a deep 
groan, “ I’ve been a very unfortunate fellow, but I might 
have done well, if I’d only started on the right track. I 
read ‘Robinson Crusoe,’ and ‘Tom Cringle’s Log,’ and 
Marryatt’s novels, and they turned my head. I ran away to 
sea before I was sixteen, and I’ve been a rover ever since. I 
was mate of a slaver once, and a pirate after that. I was tried 
for piracy and murder at Boston — and hanged!” Here he 
seemed to be seized with a convulsive shudder, and sighed 
deeply. “ I escaped with my life by a miracle then, and 
worked my passage to New York, on board a schooner. I had 
a hard time after that on shore, and was glad when I got a 
third officer’s place on a Liverpool packet. I saved some 
money, and resolved to quit a sea-faring life, and was leading 
a shore-life when I met you by accident at that boarding- 
house. Then I came out here, and after trying my luck at 
the diggings for a while, took to the bush, the wildest life a 


ADEIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


207 


man can lead, and see what it brings him to at last. My 
‘chum’ that you saw had been ‘lagged’ (transported); he 
made his escape from Van Diemen’s Land, across the strait, in 
a boat, with his fetters on. We went at first from station to 
station, ‘ sticking up’ every body. At one of them we found 
fourteen men in the hut, and one standing at the door, as we 
rode up. 

“ ‘ Have you heard that the bushrangers are out ?’ my mate 
asked. 

“ ‘Yes, I have/ said the other. 

“ ‘Then we are two of them;’ and we presented our re- 
volvers, and threatened to shoot the first man that stirred 
hand or foot. 

“ ‘Are there any prisoners among you?’ asked my mate 
again. 

“ ‘ I am one/ said a big, muscular fellow, without 
moving. 

“ ‘Then get up and tie this man’s arms together/ and he 
repeated the order till the whole lot were pinioned. Then 
while I stood at the door on guard, he walked up and down 
the hut, telling them all they might be good men or scoun- 
drels, but he wouldn’t hurt a hair of their heads if he could help 
it. Said he : ‘ We’ve been forced to take to this life, and all 
we want is money, and money we will have, come what may. 
I’ll soon show you whether I’m game or not. I’ll go straight 
into the master’s house, and bring out single-handed the man 
I want, no matter who’s there. So beware, my men; if any 
one of you moves an inch, he’s a dead man.’ 

“He then left the hut, while I remained on guard, and went 
into the squatter’s house, where nothing was known of what 
had been going on in the hut. He walked straight into the 
sitting-room, where several ladies and gentlemen were, and 
made them lay all the money and jewelry they had about them 
on the table. Then, after gathering up all the valuables, he 
locked the door on them, bidding them not to stir, and 
searched the other rooms for whatever was worth taking.' 
Dinner was just ready, so he had it served by the cook and 
another woman in the kitchen, and after he had made a hearty 
meal, he relieved me at the hut, while I did the same. \Ye 


208 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


carried off a good deal of plunder that week. I remember we 
found one hut with a lot of constables in, who were after us, 
and one of them rushed at my mate, when he presented his 
pistol, but he fell dead the next instant. ‘ How d’ye like 
that, eh?’ said he. ‘Now, then, I’m ready for another,’ but 
not a man dared to repeat the experiment. 

“ Ours was a bold, exciting life, I can tell you ; and we 
didn’t always get off unscratched. Fancy prowling about the 
wilderness, month after month ; and night after night camp- 
ing out in the open air, with nothing to cheer our camping- 
ground but a log-fire ; seldom associating with any one beyond 
our two selves, and exposed to all sorts of dangers and hard- 
ships. I remember one night we were pounced upon by the 
police, while we were quietly smoking before the camp-fire. I 
had a pair of horse-pistols in my belt, and I shot the first man 
I saw off his horse ; and I was just being made prisoner by an- 
other, when a bullet from my mate killed him, as he cried, 
‘Surrender!’ A shot whizzed through my hair, a second 
after, as I sprang across his horse, and dashed away at fall 
speed. I heard several shots fired immediately afterwards, in 
rapid succession, and then the tramp of a horse close at my 
heels. We were both at a full gallop, but I kept on my course 
till my imagined pursuer was within a few yards of me, when I 
drew up on one side to fire, but the other horseman pushed on, 
avoiding me. I saw his figure pass before me, and disappear 
through the forest, and then I knew it was my mate. I fol- 
lowed in the same direction, and had nearly reached the moun- 
tains when my horse dropped dead, bruising me severely in the 
fall. I could tell you a good deal more, but I haven’t the 
strength. Pour me out some more brandy, please ; I feel very 
weak.” 

“Now,” I said, “ I’ll leave you, so that you may rest and 
remain quiet.” 

“Ah!” he sighed, “ a long rest, I fear.’* 

“ Have you any money ?” I inquired. 

“ Yes, sixty sovereigns and some ‘nuggets’ and ‘dust* in 
my belt.” 

“ Well, keep yourself calm, and I’ll see you to-morrow. I’ll 
tell the landlord of the inn to take good care of you, and the 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


209 


doctor will be here again this afternoon. Good-by ; take care 
of yourself,” and I left him. 

As I was about to leave the house, one of the police, with 
knee-boots and spurs on, came up to me, and said : 

“ What about the wounded man up-stairs ? who shot him?” 

“I did,” was the reply. * 

“ Then I arrest you. Who is he ?” 

“Look at that,” said I, taking off my hat, and pointing to 
the bullet-hole. “ I had a narrow escape. He fired that shot, 
and I returned it. We were ‘stuck up’ by him and another 
in the Black Forest, and we resisted — that is all.” 

“ Well,” said he, “you’ll both have to be examined; and 
there’s a second charge against you — horse-stealing.” 

“ Horse-stealing !” I exclaimed. “ Oh ! you mean that horse, 
I suppose.” 

“ I mean the horse you rode when you came here.” 

“ Oh !” I replied, “ that was the horse the man that shot at 
me rode ; I mounted in order to make room for him in the 
dog-cart.” 

“We don’t know anything about that,” said he, “we only 
know that the horse is down on our lists as stolen. The marks 
on him are plain enough ; there can be no mistake about his 
identity. You and your friend will have to come with us to 
the police-office.” 

Just then Reginald Wade made his appearance, in company 
with another of the police, who had, I could see, been ques- 
tioning him in like manner. 

“ We’re under arrest, Washington,” were his words. “ We 
ought to have left that fellow to take care of himself. ” 

“ Oh ! no ; it’s all right,” said I, “ mercy is no crime. We 
have only to state the facts before the magistrate, and we shall 
be discharged.” 

As ill luck would have it, however, the magistrate had gone 
to Saw-Pit Gully, and he failed to return in time to give the 
case a hearing that day ; so we were locked up together in a 
cell for the night, during which Mr. Wade was in anything but 
an amiable mood, and vented his reproaches upon me rather 
plentifully my part in the transaction. 


210 


▲DRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


On the next morning we were conducted into the court- 
room, when the police gave their evidence, which consisted 
chiefly of the conversation they had with each of us, after 
which the magistrate adjourned to institute an ante mortem, 
examination in the room where the wounded man lay, and 
whither we were accordingly tak£n. I was surprised at the 
change which a single night had made in his appearance. He 
was now pale, wan, and emaciated, with sunken eyes, bright 
but deathly, and apparently so weak that he could hardly 
move or speak. 

He recognized me by a nod and a slight motion of the hand, 
and was evidently disturbed by the entry of the magistrate and 
police. He, however, allowed himself to be sworn willingly, 
and gave his testimony in a weak and almost inaudible voice. 
I listened with bated breath as these words fell one by one 
from his dying lips : 

“We stuck them up in the Black Forest — both sides fired — 
we were both hit — brought me here to dress my wounds — I 
deserved it — I took the horse from Black’s Station — he 
mounted him to make room for me in the dog-cart. They’re 
all right — no charge against either — both very kind to me.” 

A sigh of relief escaped me. 

“ James Fowler” — this was the name he had given — said the 
magistrate, “do you recognize in this room the gentlemen you 
and your companion fired at on that occasion?” 

A feeble “Yes,” and the magistrate said he thought it unne- 
cessary to go further, and discharged us. 

“ The more of these bushrangers that are served in the same 
way,” remarked the magistrate privately, after leaving the 
room, “the better for the country. But I admire that fellow’s 
honesty in telling the truth.” 

“ Yes,” said I, “ that man deserved to have done better in 
life. Suppose he recovers, what will become of him ?” 

“ Then we’J. hang him, of course,” was the reply. 

So in any event, a limit was put to the dark and checkered 
career of the man who had escaped the gallows once only to 
find it awaiting him again. I felt sorry that what was meant 
for an act of kindness on my part, when a boy, should have 
• led to such an unexpected termination. 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE, 


‘111 


CHAPTER XL. 

A RUN FOR LIFE. 

Shortly after noon, on the same day, we resumed our jour- 
ney towards Mount Alexander. 

A creek-bed, full of deep but deserted holes, ran parallel 
with the road, part of the way, and this was the first tig i we 
saw of the actual diggings. Soon after this, we passed numer- 
ous tents and rough wooden shanties, and then we drove in 
full view of the gold-fields. Everything wore a look of dis- 
order, f r man had on all sides destroyed the beautiful in sup- 
plying his wants. Ragged stumps of trees that had been cut 
down for fire-wood were alone left, where the green waving 
foliage had once sparkled in the splendors of the riant morn- 
ing, ere the wild man had been driven away before the ruthless 
tide of invasion ; heaps of sand, broken ground, and gullies of 
mud, were now to be seen instead of the verdure that once 
crowned the hills, and, with its carpet of emerald, brightened 
and lent luxuriance to the plain. Every thing before me con- 
trasted harshly with what it had been when, in a state of 
nature, the landscape was gay with the lovely handiwork of 
Flora ; when the aborigine danced in his native glee, and every 
living thing disported in the gladness of its existence. 

Hundreds of flags, suspended from poles above the roofs of 
as many houses, fluttered in the breeze. These served to 
guide the diggers to the various stores, doctors’ shops, and 
other places where some public want was ready to be supplied, 
at prices which were at once enormous and profitable to the 
sellers 

On the following morning, we set out for Bendigo, another 
great gold-field, distant thirty miles from the Mount Alex- 
ander diggings. Leaving behind the rolling granite country 
around the latter district, we arrived at the base of a bar- 
rier of steep rocky ranges, which here rose directly across 
the road, and distinctly marked the commencement of the 
gold country. The hills were not lofty, but they rose with 
fine sweeping outlines from the plain into bold, isolated 


212 


ADKJfT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


masses against the clear sky, and were clothed with a profu- 
sion of forest and verdure to their very summits. The road 
by a steep ascent reached a gap in the hills, commanding a 
magnificent view to the south, with Mount Alexander rising in 
solitary beauty out of undulating plains, and shadowy low- 
lands, and misty mountain ranges far beyond. In the opposite 
direction we overlooked the dark forested ridges and deep in- 
tervening hollows of the Bendigo goldfield. The gap in the 
hills was abrupt, and passing through it we immediately 
descended by a steep, narrow gully, which, gradually widening, 
led us to the head of a picturesque and fertile valley, with 
wooded slopes, and verdant gullies branching ofi right and 
left, and a wide but low alluvial bottom, through which wound 
a creek that, here and there expanding, formed a chain of wa- 
ter holes. This was the Bendigo valley. 

After following it for about a mile, we came to several tents 
on the margin of the creek, the first signs of our approach to 
the great centre of attraction. Continuing on our way, the 
tents, although still scattered, became more numerous, till at 
length the slopes and flats were studded with them, while 
large patches of upturned yellow earth in the midst of the 
grassy plain or “flat,” showed that we had reached the out- 
skirts of the diggings. 

On the banks of the creek, men were standing over tubs of 
auriferous earth, or “ washing stuff, " as it is called, which they 
worked about with a spade, occasionally tilting out the muddy 
water, and baling in fresh from the creek. Very soon the 
tents became as thickly packed as houses in a town, and the 
road passed between rows of large stores, shops, auction- 
rooms, and such like, while beyond and around were seen, in- 
stead of green flats and grassy gullies, vast level areas covered 
with gravel, clay, and sand, and burrowed with innumerable 
gold-diggers’ “holes.” The creek here appeared close to the 
road, and on its opposite bank we observed a reef of red rock, 
jagged and pointed, every chink and crevice of which bore evi- 
dence of having been carefully cleared of the earth, which in 
the natural order of things had once been collected there. 
This was the famous “Golden Point,” the spot where gold was 
first discovered at Bendigo, in the autumn of 1851. 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


213 


After passing the point alluded to, the road had the creek 
on one side, and a wide tract of deserted workings on the 
other, stretching away for miles down the valley. After an- 
other mile it again became a street of tents, stores, and shops, 
behind which were chaotic heaps of gravel and clay turned up 
by the diggers. 

A stream of busy life was passing up and down the streets of 
Sandhurst — for such the township is called — as we drove 
through. There were parties of newly-arrived diggers, with 
their high-piled carts ; travellers deep in immense thigh-boots, 
and in some dwarfish cases looking as if there was a probabi- 
lity of their sinking out of sight in them, and either mounted 
on travel-soiled horses or moving about on foot ; carts of 
“ washing-stuff” going to the creek to have the color — that is 
to say, the gold — washed out ; huge drays of merchandise, 
drawn by long teams of jaded bullocks, just in from a three or 
four weeks’ journey from Melbourne ; and diggers, with pick 
and shovel on shoulder, trudging homeward after the day’s 
work. 

For the next three miles the road extended through almost 
continuous lines of stores and shops, while the diggers’ tents 
were to be seen perched on the slopes of the hills, or in the 
lateral gullies. The valley bottom was still covered with gra- 
vel, and burrowed by countless pits and tunnels, through which 
the creek had carved out a channel. On after examination, 
however, we found that a drive up the principal valley gave 
a very inadequate idea of the magnificent scale of the golden de- 
posits at Bendigo, and of the prodigious amount of human la- 
bor spent in developing them. 

I found, on ascending any commanding eminence, that not 
only had the entire bottom or floor of the main valley been 
turned up, but that every intersecting gully, extending into 
the ranges right and left, had also been wrought, and that it 
sent down its tributary yellow stream to meet the great river 
of diggings that filled the breadth of the main valley. 

The main valley, however, was only a part of this great gold- 
field. North of the creek there ran a parallel series of seven 
large tributary gullies, some with workings two or three miles 
in extent. South of the principal valley two lateral gullies de- 


214 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


boucliing on the main stream, and running up into the ranges 
till they met, presented a continuous chain of miners four 
miles long. Altogether the Bendigo district must at this time 
have included nearly a hundred gullies and flats, extending 
over an area about ten miles in length by half as much in 
breadth. 

We were driving along a road skirting the main valley, when 
two men, having the appearance of squatters, with cabbage- 
tree hats, knee boots and riding whips, came lounging along, 
one of whom I noticed eyed us closely for a moment, and sud- 
denly looked away. 

“ By Jove,” exclaimed Reginald Wade, “that’s one of the 
men who stuck us up in the Black Forest.” 

“ So it is — you’re right,” said I, recognizing him at the same 
instant. 

“Here, take the reins,” and in a moment Mr. Wade 
had jumped out of the dog-cart and was in hot pursuit of tho 
bushranger who, separating from his companion, took to his 
heels simultaneously with this sudden action. The bush- 
ranger made a bee line for a. group of tents about a quarter of 
a mile off, while the cry of “stop thief,” from his pursuer, 
caused a crowd of diggers to join in the hunt. The race 
was becoming exciting when the bushranger suddenly turned 
upon a man who was trying to head him off, and drawing his 
revolver from his belt, shot him dead. All but one of those in 
pursuit fell back at this unexpected diversion. This one, how- 
ever, rushed boldly forward, pistol in hand, and was shot dead 
in like manner. 

Then the bushranger took to his heels more desperately than 
before, and the number of his pursuers increased. Men were 
now running from the direction of the tents, and instead of 
making for these, the bushranger tried to clear them and out- 
run his pursuers till he reached the bush. Shots were fired 
after him several times, but without effect. He was running 
among the working claims, and every few seconds he had to 
jump to overcome some obstacle. Those in pursuit from all 
directions were rapidly gaining upon him. Another jump and 
he disappeared ! 

The crowd rushed up and found that he had fallen into a 
hole forty feet deep. 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


nr, 

T had followed as well as the dog-cart would allow me in the 
distance, and now, tying the horses to a stump, I ran to the 
spot where the breathless crowd had gathered. 


CHAPTER XU. 

REGINALD WADE STANDS AGHAST. 

One of the diggers present volunteered to descend in search 
of the missing man, and he did so. Great was the suspense 
with which his return was awaited, and meanwhile the crowd 
increased by hundreds. When he reappeared, he exclaimed, 
“ He’s there, looking as dead as mutton, but may be he’s alive 
yet. I’ve tied the bucket rope round his chest, and we’ll haul 
him up.’' 

So three or four men went to work to draw him out of the 
hole, and up he came, with the pallor of death on his face 
and blood trickling from his mouth and ears, while his eyes 
were fixed and stony. Twice the lips moved slightly, after he 
was laid on the ground, and then the breath seemed to forsake 
the body, for the man lay evidently dead before us. 

“What did he do?” asked one of the diggers who had 
hoisted him out of the hole. 

“ He and another stuck us up in the Black Forest,” I re- 
plied. 

“ Bushranger — eh ? Serves him right, then.” 

The crowd began to search the dead man’s pockets, and 
very soon everything found upon his person was undergoing 
examination, and being surreptitiously appropriated. 

“ That’s a pretty picture,” said one, looking at a small 
daguerreotype which had been taken from the breast-pocket of 
his coat. 

Reginald Wade leant over the heads of others and looked at 
it, and so did I. It was the portrait of a handsome woman of 
about fifty years. 

As his eye caught it I saw him start, and he exclaimed, ** My 
God !” as if he had received a shock of surprise. 


216 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


“ Let me see that, please,” he said, excitedly, and almost in 
a tone of command, to the man who held it, and when it was 
handed to him, he looked at it with a wild look of astonish- 
ment, such as I had never before observed in his coun- 
tenance. 

“ Do you know who that is ?” said he, turning to me, and 
holding the portrait before my eyes. 

“No— who?” 

“My Mother!” 

“ Your mother?” I ejaculated in nearly equal astonishment. 
“How came it there, then ?” 

“ I think I know how. You’ve heard me speak of my 
brother, who went to the bad — haven’t you? This portrait 
belonged to him. Look, there are his initials on the back of 
the case, in his own handwriting — I remember it well.” 

“ Here, let me see those papers !” he cried, turning to the 
crowd, and he gathered several that were passing from hand 
to hand, and eagerly glanced at them. 

“ This proves it,” said he, opening a well-worn sheet of 
note-paper. “Here’s a letter in my dear mother’s hand- 
writing to Bob himself. ” 

He moved close to the side of the apparently dead man, and 
looked him fall in the face for more than a minute. Then he 
said with great emotion, “My dear fellow, that’s Bob. 
Although I haven’t seen him since I was a boy, and he was a 
man then, it all comes back upon me. He has changed 
greatly, but I recognize the features through all that heavy 
beard and tan. My poor father will be distressed to hear of 
this. He always said he was afraid Bob would come to the 
gallows. For ten years before I left home we had heard 
nothing of him, and gave him up for lost, thinking he was 
dead, and now the mystery is solved. Yes, there he lies,” 
and we both looked into the weather-beaten face, upturned to 
heaven in death. 

“ How came he to lead such a life ?” I asked. 

“Oh,” replied Reginald, deeply touched, “there was no 
doing anything with him. He ran away to sea when a school- 
boy. The next thing we heard of him, years afterwards, was 
that he and others had mutinied, and tried to scuttle their 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


217 


ship, and they were brought home in irons, tried and convicted. 
He was transported for that, but after his term had expired he 
returned to England. It was then I saw him last. My father 
tried to give him a fresh start in life, but he would buckle 
down to nothing. He was a born ne’er-do-well. He left Eng- 
land suddenly, without saying a word to any one, and from 
that day to this we heard nothing of him. That is nearly fif- 
teen years ago now, for I was a boy of about twelve at the 
time.” 

We had stepped aside during this conversation, so that it 
might not be heard by the crowd. 

“ I’ll take possession of these papers and anything else I 
can find, and see that his body is properly buried,” he con- 
tinued, “ and that is all I can do now. How sorry I am that I 
met him ! As it is I feel that I am little better than his mur- 
derer. Let us carry him over yonder to where the tents are, 
and find a place to lay him in.” 

We lifted the body and carried it slowly through the bright 
afternoon sunlight to the nearest tent, and made arrangements 
for having it kept there all night. I undertook the melancholy 
task of ordering a coffin and arranging for a funeral on the 
next day, and meanwhile w r e shared a tent with some gentle- 
manly diggers in the immediate vicinity, and entrusted our 
horses to a stable keeper not far off. 

During the evening I heard much of gold digging and the 
diggers from those with whom we were temporarily domiciled 
but Reginald lay down for the night early, and took no part in 
the conversation. He was thinking over this strange discov- 
ery of his brother in the person of the bushranger, a subject 
that naturally grieved him greatly. 

The life of the digger is simple, regular, and tolerably 
healthy. His dress is a blue elastic vest, or jersey, the same as 
worn by sailors, with the addition, during winter, of an outer 
coarse serge shirt. His wais.t is girt with a plain leather belt, 
in which he usually carries his fossicking-knife, for dislodging 
the gold from holes and crevices. If his work necessitate his 
standing in water, he wears a pair of water-tight knee-boots, 
drawn up outside the trousers. He usually rises at daybreak, 
and he and his mates — one, two, three, or four, as the case 


218 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


may be — first prepare and dispatch their breakfast, and then 
sally out to their “claim” or “hole.” If the latter be far re- 
moved from the tent, they invariably take with them their din- 
ner, and the tin pot for making tea. At sundown they return, 
bringing the proceeds of the day’s work in a small bag, or an 
old match-box. Supper is then prepared, which, alike with 
the other meals, consists of beef or mutton, with bread and 
tea. The gold having first been carefully washed, is now di- 
vided, or added to the general store, which is often kept in 
old pickle-bottles, or a collection of castaways of the kind. 

The digger is very free and independent ; he works hard, but 
he does so of his own will, and in the hope of acquiring suffi- 
cient gain to enable him to choose an occupation more conge- 
nial to his taste, if not entire independence. He is generous, 
and as unsuspicious as he is frank. He respects Sunday by an 
entire absence from work, holding it as a day of rest and relax- 
ation, although not commonly participating in its religious 
observances, but preferring to gossip with his neighbors, and 
travel from tent to tent, visiting his acquaintances. 

We rose on the following morning soon after daylight. The 
melancholy task of burying the dead man — my own cousin as 
it appeared — was performed at noon in the Bendigo burial 
ground — a quiet spot on a hill-side, — a Methodist minister, 
whose presence I had secured, reading the service over the 
body as it was committed, ashes to ashes and dust to dust, to 
the grave. Reginald Wade and myself were the sole 
mourners. 

There were no tombstones to mark the last resting places of 
the departed — nothing but mounds of earth here and there. 
The living, except in rare instances and where close relation- 
ship existed, were too much absorbed in the search for gold 
to care for the dead. I saw Reginald drop a tear over his 
brother’s grave as he turned away and followed the clergyman 
from the spot. 

Here lay the rude graves of those whose cherished hopes 
had been blighted by the mysterious hand of the great 
enemy. The deserted workings on the hill-top and the 
busy scene below alike contrasted with these silent homes 
of the dead. Everything reminded me of life and enterprise 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


219 


as I glanced down the valley and across to the surrounding 
hills, and everywhere observed the evidences of man’s indomi- 
table industry, but near me all that met the eye spoke only of 
death. 

The humble mound and rudely constructed cross told their 
eloquent tale, while on one of the graves a few of the wild 
flowers of the bush, evidently strewn there a day or two before, 
bore silent testimony clear to all understandings. 

The bright rays of the sun were playing on a solitary head- 
board that may have marked the resting place of a once strong 
man, whom the abuse of liquor, the wasting fever, or some of 
the other ills to which flesh is heir, had cut off in the midst of 
his exciting career. Beside that solitary headboard was a 
mound that perhaps indicated the grave of the young wife who 
had followed her husband away from the refinements of civili- 
zation to share in the hardships of colonial life, which, alas ! 
proved too much for her tender frame. And there was another 
mound, which perchance covered one who, scarcely beyond the 
years of boyhood, left home and friends to seek his fortune in 
the land of gold. He too fell under the hardships and dissipa- 
tions of life on the gold fields. His friends may have never 
heard of his death, and weary months or years may have pas- 
sed, and the mother’s heart grown sad and the father’s brow 
darkened while they still hoped against hope. 

Retracing my steps into the valley in company with Mr. 
Wade, the busy signs of active life which met the eye 
and ear dispelled the somewhat melancholy train of thought in 
which I had become involved as we walked together in silence. 
Reginald was the first to break it. 

“Washington,” said he, “I have one request to make of you, 
and that is that you will bury everything you know in connec- 
tion with my dead brother in his grave. You know what I 
mean — never speak of him again. This event has given me 
great pain, and I'm very sorry I made the discovery I did, for 
my brother has disgraced his family, and by his own miscon- 
duct unconsciously led me to be indirectly the cause of his 
death. Let, then, the past so far as he is concerned be buried. 
I shall never speak to you of him again, and, as I doubt 
whether I shall even let my father know what has trans- 


220 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


pired, I ask you to keep the whole melancholy story strictly 

to yourself.” v 

I replied, in the language of tne marriage service, " I will. 


CHAPTER XLI1. 

TOUR MONET OR TOUR LIFE. 

After breakfast on the following morning, I persuaded Regi- 
nald Wade to leave Bendigo, as I saw he was brooding over 
the tragedy of his brother’s death, and change of scene was 
likely to do him good by diverting his mind. Accordingly we 
left Sandhurst and our dog-cart behind, and soon found our- 
selves on horseback in the bush. 

On every side was seen as we went a labyrinth of gum-trees, 
with silvery and mottled trunks and feathery foliage, which 
offered no shade from the vivid and fiery sun-light. Here and 
there gnarled old giants of the forest, with twisted trunks and 
branches, stood up in grotesque shapes over dead trees and 
branches that lay half-hidden in the high grass, and among 
lofty stems half-burnt away by bush-fires, whose foliage was 
still green and luxuriant. The clustering emerald of the cher- 
ry-tree, and the she-oak everywhere contrasted with the mea- 
gre and more sombre foliage of the gum. Occasionally we 
came upon a beautiful grassy glade, with here and there a 
stream, while glimpses of the purple-tinted outlines of moun- 
tains, indistinct in the distance, rose upon the view, ever 
changing as we went; while for music we had the clear 
ting- ting of the bell-bird, the shrill hooting of the cockatoo 
and parrot, and the trill-trill of many a gaudy-plumaged tenant 
of the woods. 

The principal incident of the day was our visiting a native 
mi-mi, or encampment, the huts of which were built of loose 
branches and the bark of the gum-tree. The aborigines here 
bore lamentable evidence of their proximity to, and associa- 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


221 


tion with, the white man. The men of the party were either 
lying down in their huts, or squatting in the shade of the same. 
The women, or lubras, rose and eyed us wistfully. Some had 
scraps of ragged cloth about them, evidently not of native 
manufacture, and which very much tended to spoil their pic- 
turesqueness, and to mar what little beauty they possessed. The 
hair of all was extremely black and coarse, and in some cases 
tied up with strips of handkerchiefs, and such like. They had 
each holes in either the cartilage of the nose or ears, or both, 
through which apertures was thrust some ornament of their 
choice, usually the bone of a bird, beast, or fish. At intervals 
they chanted in low murmuring tones a peculiar native melody, 
meanwhile beating their stretched opossum-skin rugs as a 
drum accompaniment. 

After this we rode in the direction of the Pyrenees, as far as 
the station of Sandy Sutherland — a Scotchman, notorious for 
his possession of bag-pipes, and still more so for being addicted 
to playing them — to which we had been directed. 

It is not necessary to be invited in order to insure a welcome 
in the bush ; the solitary denizens of the leafy wilderness are 
too glad to see the face of a visitor not to entertain him with 
all the resources of their homestead, and to the best of their 
ability. 

We found the squatter, with a solitary guest, in a wretched 
slab hut that constituted his dwelling-place. He looked as 
wild as he was hairy, but nevertheless made us very welcome. 
After regaling us with tea, cold mutton, and stale bread, his 
usual fare, unembellished with even milk or butter, for his was 
a sheep-station, he volunteered to give us a tune, and accord- 
ingly out came the bag-pipes, and away he went reeling about 
the room, amid the most vociferous screeching and contortion 
of the instrument, and with a highly ludicrous wagging of the 
head and flinging of the legs on his part. The effect was 
prodigious, and elicited much glee, but as it is sometimes pos- 
sible to have too much of a good thing, we were glad when 
the performance terminated. 

Our entertainer’s hut, which of course was single-storied, 
consisted of three small rooms. The floor was of mud, daubed 
in some places with plaster, and the walls of wattle-tree sLbs 


222 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


and “ dab” — a kind of hurdle-work, roughly covered with a 
coat of mud. The roof was of bark, while of ceiling there was 
an entire absence. Partitions rose up to the height of six feet, 
so that all being open above, what was spoken in one apart' 
ment could be distinctly heard in the others. 

In the division first entered was a huge recess, where burned 
a log fire, the smoke of which ascended through a wooden 
chimney. A rifle was slung against the wall, as also a collec- 
tion of the bushy tails of the dingo, or native dog. A few 
greasy and dilapidated volumes lay on the bench-like shelf, in 
one corner, and on both sides of the fire-place was a wooden 
seat, which when needed answered the purpose of a bedstead. 
There was a small window in which dirty white calico was 
made to serve instead of glass. In each of the other two com- 
partments, which were used as bed-rooms, there was a stretcher 
— every body who has been in Australia is more or less fami- 
liar with the so-denominated cross-legged, canvas-bottomed, 
postless, curtainless, unadorned resting-places for the weary 
sleeper. In addition to the stretcher there was a tin pot and 
a tin basin, near and above which, hanging from a rusty nail, 
was a towel stiff with dirt, while still higher an old worn out 
tooth-brush and a dirty comb were stuck under the bark roof. 
There were no drawers, cupboards, or shelves, so this sticking 
under the roof was a pardonable invention of Mother Necessity. 

Reginald Wade and myself had the wooden couches in the 
first compartment placed at our disposal, and blankets were 
added as covering for ourselves and timber. Our host and the 
other guest occupied the two stretchers. The fire continued 
smouldering during the night. The door was secured only by 
a rude latch, and one step across the threshold would have 
brought us into the wild bush, with the heavenly host in their 
silence and their beauty shining placidly above. 

I was kept awake for hours by the eccentricities of a mena- 
gerie of household pets, one of which, a domesticated lamb, 
kept running in and out of the hut, through a gap in the door- 
way. It would vary its performances by alternately scraping 
and pawing ; poking its nose into my face, frisking about as if 
under the influence of strong excitement, and starting off with 
a rush, as if suddenly taken by surprise. During all this time? 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


223 


cats engaged in flirtation were capering wildly about the j oist s 
and roof, geese were making serious attempts at conversation, 
and roosting poultry were scratching and murmuring within 
hearing outside ; and at the first break of dawn the clarion- 
note was sounded from some red-wattled throat, which was the 
signal for a general chorus from all parts of the homestead ; 
while the cheerful yet ludicrous notes of the laughing jackass, 
and the song of the blackbird, broke melodiously on the ear 
from out the neighboring groves. 

I was awake and up before any of the others, and wandered 
in search of soap and water into the division occupied by my 
host, whom I found fast asleep, with his mouth disclosing a 
yawning abyss. I felt justified in using his tin basin to wash 
in, there being no other in the hut, and proceeded to act ac- 
cordingly, upon which he awoke, yawned, and began his daily 
work by “turning out,” or, in other words, getting up. 
“You’ll excuse me for making use of your wash-hand basin,” 
I observed, and was about to throw away the water I had used, 
when he cried, “Stop !” and taking the basin out of my hand, 
threw its liquid contents across the mud floor. As he had 
slept in his blue day-shirt, and appeared to entertain a horror 
of a too general application of cold water, he was soon dressed, 
immediately after which he went to look after his sheep, that 
had been folded near the hut during the night. 

Breakfast followed soon afterwards in the style of the previ- 
ous night’s supper. 

We had just finished the meal when suddenly up rode at a 
gallop, six rough looking and heavily bearded mounted men, 
well armed with horse-pistols and revolvers. These, although 
they were without disguise and wore ordinary cabbage tree 
hats and thigh boots, were at once recognized by the squatter 
and his friend as bushrangers, their leader being “Black 
Prince” — so called from his dark complexion — a well known 
member of the gang. They all drew up in front of the hut. 

Three of their number dismounted, two of whom entered 
the hut, while one stood guarding the door. Each man held 
his revolver in his hand. 

“ All that we want is money,” said Black Prince. “Deliver 
up what you’ve got without a word.” 


224 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


Not a man offered any resistance. 

“ This is all I’ve got,” said the squatter, throwing down a 
chamois leather bag with about twenty sovereigns in it. 

“How much have you ?” asked the desperado, turning to 
the squatter’s guest, who had arrived before us. The latter 
looked, I could see, greatly chagrined, and in this respect he 
piesented a strong contrast to the apparent indifference of the 
squatter, who seemed to take the proceeding pretty much as a 
matter of course. 

The guest drew from his pockets two canvas bags full of 
coin, and laid them on the table. 

“ Come, come, take off that belt,” said the bushranger, and 
the man seeing that he had no alternative but to do so or be 
shot, divested himself of a belt which he wore buckled round 
his body under his waistcoat, and handed it over in the same 
manner. It was heavily filled with gold dust. 

“ Out with the rest,” commanded the haughty scoundrel, 
il you had more than that when you left Sandhurst.” 

Two bags of nuggets were produced from his coat-pockets. 

“Any more ?” 

“No.” 

“ Search him,” said the bushranger turning to his mate, and 
he was searched accordingly, but nothing more in the way of 
gold was found upon his person. 

“Now you, sir!” said the captain of the bushrangers, ad- 
dressing me. “ Let me see what you’ve got, and you, too,” he 
continued, turning to Keginald Wade. 

Deeming prudence, on this occasion, the better part of 
valor, we complied without a word of protest. I had only 
about fifteen pounds in money, and Mr. Wade had something 
more. Both, however, had certificates of deposit issued by 
the Ban^ of New South Wales, in Melbourne. There we had 
deposited our surplus cash before starting for the diggings, 
but these we said nothing about, and although the bushrangers 
opened and looked at them during the search, they handed 
them back, probably deeming they would incur too much risk 
for their own safety in getting them cashed, as they were made 
payable to our own order. 

“Gentlemen,” said the leader of the gang, after all had been 


ADKIFT WITH A VENGEANCE, 


225 


searched and the interior of the hut had been carefully ex- 
amined also, “you’ve behaved handsomely, and as I know 
what it is to be without money, I’ll leave you a couple of sove- 
reigns a piece. Good morning.” 

The three men instantly remounted their horses, which were 
beiug held for them by the other three who had remained 
mounted, and galloped off into the bush. 

“ They evidently came after you, Jones,” said the squatter 
to the guest who had delivered up so much gold. 

“ I knew they were about,” said he, with a bitter curse, “and 
was afraid this very thing would happen. I oughtn’t to have 
Carried so much about me at once.” 

The coolness with which the robbery was committed and the 
equanimity with which it was borne, surprised me. There was 
no violence, no commotion on either side. The bushrangers 
knew they were masters of the situation and their victims knew 
it also, and surrendered unconditionally. 

We left the squatter and his guest smoking their pipes, while 
they talked over the event of the morning. They told us at 
parting that we incurred no danger from bushrangers so long 
as we offered no resistance and quietly allowed ourselves to be 
searched, but, as “old chums,” they warned us against any 
other course. 

“ A man's life is worth more to him than his money, you 
know,” said the squatter philosophically, “ and the best of us 
die soon enough without having bushrangers’ bullets to help us 
to shuffla off this mortal coil.” 


CHAPTER XLIII. 

r 

WHAT BEFELL US. 

“I don’t want to utter any reproaches, Reginald,” I said, as 
we walked our horses away from Sandy Sutherland’s hut, “ but 
I’m almost sorry that I undertook this journey. It was run- 
ning too much risk for a man in my peculiar position, and I 

p 


226 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


don’t enjoy it half as much as I should if I were differently 
situated. My thoughts dwell upon Gertrude Morgan, my mo- 
ther, and this strange romantic history of mine, and my great- 
est desire is to get back to New York as quickly as possible. 
The only thing that reconciles me to this trip is the fact that 
no vessel that we could go by, will sail until after we have had 
time to reach Melbourne again. But who knows what may 
happen with these devils of bushrangers about ? Already I’ve 
had a narrow escape of losing my life by one of them, and I 
wouldn’t run another such risk for anything. Besides, who 
wants to lose his money in the way we’ve just lost ours ?” 

“Oh, we’ll reach Melbourne again all right and in good 
time,” replied Reginald. “ Don’t be down in the mouth be- 
cause you've been relieved of your loose change. I’ll make it 
good to you. I’m almost as much interested in your affairs as 
you are yourself, and I'm sure I wouldn’t have advised you to 
do any thing that would interfere with your plans or happiness. 
You’ll be back in New York just as soon as if you had waited 
quietly in Melbourne until you found a vessel ready to take 
you. We are old bushmen, you must remember, and can 
make ourselves as much at home here as anywhere else.” 

“ I know all that,” I rejoined, “but I would not for the 
world do any thing deliberately that would jeopardize my re- 
turn to America without unnecessary delay, and I’m surprised 
when I reflect upon it, at my rashness in firing at the bush- 
ranger in the Black Forest, but even then 1 wouldn’t have done 
it only for your leading off. I saw that I had either to shoot 
or be shot. Mind, if I were a free man I should not shrink 
for a moment from danger, but rather court than shun it, for 
I have a natural taste for adventure. I have a duty, however, 
to perform to others, and the fresh experience we have passed 
through this morning, admonishes me in a manner calculated 
to give rise to these reflections. Don’t you think so ?” 

“Oh, yes, I understand — it’s very natural you should feel 
so under the circumstances, Washington, but I believe in 
being jolly come what may. You’ll enjoy your return to city 
life all the more for breathing this glorious air and getting 
your eye teeth cut by bushrangers. Come, let us consign the 
robbers to perdition and have a good gallop. We’ll get to the 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


227 


station our friend the squatter directed us to, in next to no 
time, and the more bushrangers we meet, the merrier, say I. 
There’s one consolation for us now — we’ve nothing to lose.” 

We set out for a point of the Pyrenees distant about ten 
miles, and halted at a homestead near the place of our destina- 
tion. Here we remained for an hour, and later, on horseback, 
struck into a wood-splitter’s track, and followed it up the 
mountain-pass. We ascended for some distance a gentle rise 
through gum forest and scrub, and then had the toilsome plea- 
sure of doing the same thing up a very steep and rocky gully. 
As we neared the summit of the chain, lofty precipices of white 
quartz rock, deeply and vertically furrowed, were presented to 
the eye, surrounded and half-concealed by dense forest, which 
in some places extended to the uppermost peaks. 

At the crest of the gully, a magnificent prospect of moun- 
tain-tops, umbrageous woods, and rugged defiles, extending to 
the sea- like plain beneath, and blending with the clear blue of 
the sky on the horizon, burst upon the view. BoMin outline, 
and as picturesque as the day was bright, this scene was such 
as would have refreshed and delighted the eye of a painter, and 
inspired the mind of a poet with ideas of the grand, the mag- 
nificent, and the beautiful. And its effect was not lost upon 
us, for we surveyed with happy feeling every feature of the 
rugged picture, and lingered long in admiration of its beauties. 
Another short ascent through stringy-bark forest led to the 
highest point of the pass. 

The track, white as snow, owing to the quartz sand which 
covered, it, wound through a rich green undergrowth. We 
descended by a gentle slope, and very soon came to a spring. 
Granite cropped out here and there, near the head of 
the pass forming apparently the axis of the chain. We de- 
scended about seven miles on the opposite side, and as far as 
the homestead of the Merri-Merri station, where we arrived 
much jaded, and put up for the night. Early on the following 
morning we were again in the saddle, and directed our horses’ 
heads towards the summit of a slaty range, that here pointed 
down in a southerly direction, and lost itself in the great lava 
plain below. Advancing five or six miles, we came to a 
chain of hills, crested by huge granite rocks, grown over with 


228 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


lichens, and as grotesque in form — globose, conical, and 
shapeless — as they were irregular in disposition. Two miles 
further on, another granite hill rose out of the plain. 

To the north-west extended the jagged chain of the taller 
mountains, blue and smoke-like at their summits, yet clearly 
pencilled to the view. Descending the ranges, we traversed a 
wide stretch of undulating country, and monotonous lava 
plain, thickly furrowed, and void of every blade of grass that 
had sprung up there during the winter. The smoke of a 
bush-fire was now seen, but it was drifting before the wind in 
a contrary direction to us. 

Ten miles further on we came to a station or homestead, 
nestled in a hollow, near a fine broad and deep pond or water- 
hole, skirted with gnarled gum-trees on one side, and a well- 
cultivated garden on the other, which, green and luxuriant, 
contrasted delightfully with the arid, dreary plain that sur- 
rounded them, and formed a very oasis in the seeming desert. 
The homestead here was a well-built brick and wooden house, 
and comfortably if not elegantly furnished. We were invited 
to join the family at dinner, which we did to our perfect satis- 
faction. Our appearance acted as quite a sufficient introduc - 
tion to the good opinion and hospitalities of the denizens of 
the bush. 

Soon after dinner we were again in the saddle, and set out to 
the south-east, straight across the plain towards a bald hill, 
which shut out the view of a lofty mountain. It was a wild 
and dreary country we were now treading, broken and fur- 
rowed with hollows, which in winter had formed swamps, and 
as we advanced it became sterile and rocky. The sun went 
down grandly in the west, the brief twilight rapidly waned, 
and our horses were exhausted ; but no station or hut was to 
be seen, nothing but the drear, bleak plain met our lengthy 
gaze. By-and-by we came upon a track, and followed it 
awhile, after which we left it, and again pursued our course. 
A thin crescent moon shone calmly in the heavens. We still 
wandered on, leading our jaded horses, stumbling as we went 
over the rocks that on all sides peeped above the surface. At 
length we were fairly lost in these rugged, wildering wilds. It 
seemed hopeless to continue roaming onward through the 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


229 


darkness which had shrouded the landscape, without a clue to 
guide us on our way, and accordingly we halted. Notwith- 
standing the extreme heat of the day, the wind now blew cold 
and sharp ; that, however, did not do away with thirst, or the 
necessity for water, but of water we had none. The cold wind 
made us feel hungry, but of food we had only a fragment of 
an old “ damper’' (an unleavened cake made of flour and wa- 
ter, and baked in ashes) ; this we ate, and having succeeded in 
making a fire, and a breakwind of boughs, we wrapped our- 
selves in our opossum-rugs, and lay down on the ground near 
by, and very soon were asleep, with nothing between us and 
the star-spangled canopy of heaven. The night sped on in 
solitary flight. 

Then came the first gray streak of dawn. I awoke, and, 
starting up, found that our horses were nowhere to be seen. 
They had broken from their moorings, as a sailor would have 
said ; certain it was they had slipped from their tether, but that 
is a common circumstance in the bush, and one that does not 
cause the heroes of a night’s bivouac much alarm, for they are 
usually to be found grazing a mile or two off. The cheerless 
morning light disclosed to the eye a solitary moorland, with 
valley-like undulations, intersected here and there by rugged 
and rocky ridges. A few stunted shrubs and deformed bank- 
sias consorted well with the craggy nooks out of which they 
grew. We were without either track or clue to guide us to a 
station; no living thing was here to be seen, and we had 
neither food nor water. Parched and hungry, therefore, we 
set out together to seek the strayed horses. After walking 
about two miles, we came upon a flock of sheep and a shep- 
herd’s hut. The dogs quickly espied us, and barked the alarm 
signal ; upon which their master, the shepherd, came out in 
his night garb to see what all the noise was occasioned by. 
We asked him for a drink of cold water, which we received and 
drank with no ordinary pleasure and satisfaction. He told us 
that we were only a mile from the nearest station ; so we made 
towards it, and on our way found our horses quietly grazing 
together in a grassy valley. We found some difficulty in 
securing them ; but when that end was achieved, we led them 
back to our place of bivouac, where we saddled them, and 


230 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


afterwards rode over to the station indicated. The sun now 
rose in vivifying grandeur, rolling floods of light over the 
more prominent objects of the landscape, and dispelling the 
mists that had hung over the eastern horizon. Beautiful and 
exhilarating was the effect of the rainbow hues that shot 
athwart the prospect, gladdening to the heart, and resplendent 
to the eye. Grand, divine loveliness. The rising of the sun 
is more cheering, even as his setting is more grand, more in- 
spiring in its pensive glory ; but how beautiful are both, and 
what is there in the majesty of the elements that can outvie 
their splendor ! 

We found the squatter at the station in his hut, and in bed. 
However, he bade us welcome, rose, and putting a handful of 
the coarse green tea in common use throughout the bush, 
into the large tin pot, prepared for breakfast. Our adventure 
was soon told, and, as it was devoid of novelty, just as quickly 
dismissed. After breakfast, we again mounted our horses, 
and cantered away to the northward, across the sun-lit plain, 
and into the forest. At first, a few reeds and ferns bordered 
our path, but these soon disappeared, and we found ourselves 
in the midst of charred and fallen trunks — striking evidences 
of the recent ravages of bush-fires. Of all the rich and charac- 
teristic vegetation that formed the undergrowth of the forest, 
two or three weeks before, not a trace now remained save in 
the burnt stems or fronds of the fern-tree ; but even these, in 
stead of branching out like feathery palms, hung down forlornly 
from the tops of the trunks. Every green shrub had been 
devoured by the flames ; on all sides were trees of colossal 
dimensions, and presenting smooth branchless trunks for 
a hundred feet or more from the ground ; the trunks were 
charred, but their foliaged tops had escaped the fiery element, 
and were still green and luxuriant — offering a singular con- 
trast to the signs of death and desolation beneath. 

The track we had followed, which at first was clearly defined 
and easy, became indistinct, and then gradually effaced as we 
advanced. To continue to follow it was beyond our power, for 
it often lay beneath a chaos of huge fallen trunks and branches, 
and often it became necessary to make a long detour in order 
to avoid these ; which, two or three hundred feet in length, 


ADIUFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


231 


would here and there arch over a ravine and leave a passage 
beneath. These obstacles having been rounded, we had again 
to seek the old track as a clue through the forest ; and after- 
wards to discover a spot where, by means of leaping, climbing, 
and scrambling, the horses might force a passage ; so great 
was the labyrinth. 

What most attracted attention, and interested me, while 
passing through these tangled ruins of vegetation, was the 
magnificent growth and size of the trees. Even the lightwood- 
tree grew to the height of a hundred feet. 

Neither the voice of a bird, nor the chirp of an insect, sounded 
through these all but lifeless solitudes ; every living thing ap- 
peared to have perished in the wide-spread conflagration. The 
wind whistled mournfully through the leafy crowns of the 
standing trees, while occasionally the distant crash of a falling 
trunk, deep and loud — the avalanche of the forest — broke the 
silence of this singular scene of desolation. 

We were in the midst of this scene, when suddenly three 
mounted men rode up to us, one of whom cried, “ Halt — Dis- 
mount,” and in a moment the bridles of our horses were seiz- 
ed and three revolvers were levelled at our heads. We dis- 
mounted. 

Again we were in the hands of bushrangers. But for the 
serious character of these adventures I should have been 
amused at their frequency. As it was, we seemed fated to be 
“ stuck up.” 

I saw at a glance that these men were part of the gang of 
six by whom we had been relieved of our cash at the squatter’s 
on the previous day, and I began to think it was too much of 
a joke even for bushrangers, this “ sticking up ” of the same 
men twice within two days. Surely, I reflected, the despera- 
does had made a mistake. I looked for the swarthy face and 
brilliant eyes of “ Black Prince, ’ but they were missing. 

I thought it better to be cautious than rash in what I said, 
and therefore merely remarked, “We’ve only a couple of sov-^ 
ereigns apiece. Didn’t we meet you yesterday ?” 

Meanwhile, two of the desperadoes had dismounted, and while 
one was searching me, another was similarly occupied with 
■Reginald Wade. 


232 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


I recognized in the men before me the three bushrangers 
who had remained mounted in front of Squatter Sutherland’s 
hut, while their three companions committed the robbery. 

‘ ‘ Where, yesterday ?” asked the man who was searching 
me. 

“At Mr. Sutherland’s station,” I replied. 

“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed out the villain. “You don’t 
mean to say you were the fellows we met there.” 

“Yes, Ido,” I replied. 

“Do you hear that, mates ?” he said, turning to his compan- 
ions. “ We've struck a blank this time. We overhauled our 
friends yesterday at Mr. Sandy Sutherland s,” and he laughed 
immoderately, as if he thought it a very good joke indeed. 
The other men laughed too, but more to hide their disappoint- 
ment than anything else, apparently. 

“Excuse us,” said the man who had searched me, putting 
back the couple of sovereigns he had found on my person. 
“We never take small amounts, but we sometimes give 
them,” and he winked at me knowingly, as if we had been in- 
timate friends of long standing. 

“ Consider this all a mistake,” I heard the other bushranger 
say to Reginald. “We never fire at dead game when we 
know it, but accidents will happen in the best regulated 
families.” 

The two men remounted, and, with a wave of the hand, the 
three galloped out of sight almost in an instant. 

Onward we toiled, and at length reached a streamlet flowing 
through a channel of soft mud. Had the thirsty horses been 
allowed to drink, they would have been hopelessly bogged ; 
but drink they wanted, and drink I was determined to let 
them have if by any means 1 could possibly accomplish the 
service. Accordingly I crept down to the water-side, took off 
my hat, filled it from the running brook, and retracing my 
steps, succeeded in affording the necessary relief. 

After an hour’s ride from this point of our day’s journey, 
the forest, instead of being burnt up, merely showed signs of 
singeing; and very soon we passed the limits of devastation, 
and entered a green alley, cut through the undergrowth, and 
walled in with the most luxuriant vegetation. The effect of 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


233 


the transition from the bare lifeless forest to this exuberance 
of vegetable life, was at once pleasing and refreshing. Never 
before did moss and lichen appear so exquisitely perfect in 
form and tint. The fern-tree extended its green and feathery 
fronds, and contrasted with the darker shades of the forest be- 
yond. Delicate tendrils climbed up into the trees, and hung 
from branch to branch. The liquid ting of the bell-bird, the 
chirrup and flutter of paroquets, and the shout of the laughing 
jackass, now resounded on every side ; and as we trotted along, 
our jaded steeds freshened up, and caught at reeds and ferns, 
and no doubt welcomed the prospect of grass. 

After riding for about four miles through these beautiful 
groves and shrubberies, in which huge gum and stringy bark- 
trees towered three hundred feet above our heads, we emerged 
into an open valley. The lattei we traversed, and then fol- 
lowed a long sharp ridge which led to another deep delving 
valley. Into this we descended on foot, the horses sliding 
rather than walking down its crumbling sides as we led them 
after us. 

In the deep solitudes of this rugged vale we found a pictur- 
esque streamlet, gurgling as it went, and in some places over- 
arched by fallen trees. After this we crossed a steep range, 
and found another such brook beyond it ; and again, another 
range and another brook. Here, overtaken by night, we were 
compelled to camp ; for to make our way through the bush 
was impossible, in the darkness. We kindled a fire, and en- 
veloping ourselves in our rugs, lay down beside it ; and hungry 
and supperless, sank once more to slumber. 


CHAPTER XLIV. 

A GRAND CORROBBERRI, 

We had been camped just sufficiently long to allow of about 
two hours' sleep, when I dreamt myself in Phantom-land, and 
suddenly awoke to find that we were surrounded by a dusky 
group of wild men, hooting loudly, as they seemingly danced 


234 


ADBIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


round the red embers of our fire. I rose, with something 
like a start. Was it a vision, or a dream, or reality? 

For the moment, the transition from profound sleep to my 
waking senses rendered me incapable of deciding, so strange 
was the bewilderment. But it was only for a moment, and 
then I clearly appreciated my position, and saw that we had 
been merely disturbed by natives. 

The moon shone brirhtly down from her silver throne, and 
lighted up the landscape far and near with her placid beams, 
and made the dark and moving figures before me stand out 
with wonderful distinctness. My companion had been aroused 
by the cries of the aborigines almost at the same moment as 
myself, and we both sprang to our feet together. There was 
much noise and gesticulation, much brandishing of spears, 
and jumping to-and-fro on the part of our midnight visitors. 
What was to be done ? What did they want ? Such were the 
hurried inquiries of Mr. Wade. I calmed his troubled soul by 
a few word of assurance and consolation. He wished himself 
back at Melbourne. 

I uttered a scrap of the native tongue I had picked up else- 
where. Those before me evidently failed in comprehending 
my meaning, or even in recognizing the sounds. Feeling it 
rather awkward to continue standing, without bringing about 
Some interchange of ideas, and being, moreover, desirous of 
making their more familiar acquaintance, I commenced a 
species of active pantomime, such as pointing to the fire, and 
then to themselves, with a view of ascertaining where theirs 
lay, as the aborigines always keep their fires burning during 
the night. The result was that friendly relations were at once 
established, and that we saddled our horses and set out to- 
gether for their mi-mi. The light of the moon, which, at the 
time of our camping had not risen, was now sufficient to guide 
us, even had we been alone ; but with the natives leading the 
way for us, we experienced little difficulty in getting over 
the ground. 

We had not proceeded far, when an opening in the forest 
disclosed the gleam of fires. The antics of our guides told us 
that there lay their encampment. I was ripe for adventure, 
and this lapse into the realms of aboriginalism was rather 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


235 


gladdening, and pleasant excitement, to my brain than other- 
wise; and I hailed the novelty with delight. We reached the 
mi-mi. Fires were gleaming here and there, to the number of 
twenty, within a circuit of a hundred yards, and round these 
fires were squatted the dark forms of men and women, unclad, 
save with the loose folds of an opossum rug, and unadorned 
save with a fish or other bone thrust through the cartilage of 
the nose, or the pendulums of the ears, and with wilgie and 
with paint. But the application of the latter was the most 
conspicuous feature about them ; some were distinguished by 
white longitudinal lines drawn down the legs and arms, with 
lateral lines of similar color drawn parallel with their ribs, and 
otherwise chalked off so as to resemble skeletons, such being 
the effect sought. Others, again, were colored after the rain- 
bow pattern, and upon these the whole resources of the earths 
at their command had been called into requisition. The effect 
of the red flare of the fires upon these grotesque figures was 
very singular and wild. Wilgie is simply the fat of animals, 
with which their hair and part of the body were anointed. 

The entire group rose up with a many-tongued utterance as 
they caught sight of us, and there was great sensation at once 
evident among their number. They gathered round us with 
spear and boomerang ; and while they eyed us scrutinizingly, 
they kept up an incessant conversation with those of their 
party who had disturbed and led us thither, in which, no 
doubt, they asked for full particulars of their meeting with us, 
where we were found, and what we were doing, as well as 
deliberated upon what it would be best to do with us. The 
novelty of the scene was striking. Here we were among the 
wild children of nature, in the wild bush, at midnight. 

Judging that the performance of a corrobberri would con- 
duce to the general hilarity, and drive away suspicion from 
the minds of the natives as to our disposition towards them, I 
suggested such without loss of time by dancing a hornpipe. 
The suggestion was received with uproarious manifestations of 
delight, and the dusky throng began their revels with ringing 
shouts like laughter, and with much leaping and agitation of 
body. 

I feel that language is inadequate to portray the scene that 


236 


ADEIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


followed, and that any description I may pen will but coldly, 
faintly, picture to the mind of the reader the vivid and ener- 
getic display of passion and animation that was presented by 
those aboriginal performers of this night corrobberri of the 
Australian wilderness. Nevertheless, I shall draw the out- 
line. 

The women of the tribe retired together into the shades of 
the neighboring grove, and quickly reappeared, and ranged 
themselves in lines on either side of the fires. Suddenly, and 
with a shout — half-yell, half-song — they commenced dancing ; 
the singing being meanwhile sustained with vigor, and the 
motions of limb with great energy. A patriarchal group sat 
near us, beating time on stretched skins ; the rest of the men 
had retired into the sombre shades of the forest, and were un- 
seen. The gesticulations and dance of the women grew more 
violent and rapid as* the moments fled, and the performance 
seemed a perfect whirl, accompanied by a deafening and ex- 
citing chorus. Quickly they vanished with a yell, but the 
music was still heard. Just then the men, like spectres, 
emerged from the darkness, and came forward into the ob- 
scure light shed by the yet un cherished fires, and joined in 
chorus with the women. As the strange figures of the men — 
with their bodies painted gaudily with red, blue, white, and 
yellow r clay, and in such varied ways that no two individuals 
were alike — came forward in mystic order from the obscurity of 
the background, while the singers and beaters of time were in- 
visible, the effect was highly theatrical. 

The dance was now progressive, the first movement being 
slow, and introduced by two performers ; the others, men and 
women, one by one, joining in, and each imperceptibly warm- 
ing into savage attitudes and almost frenzical excitement. 
The legs were stretched to the utmost, the head was turned 
over one shoulder, the eyes glared, and were fixed with the 
fiercest energy all in one direction ; and the arms were raised, 
the hands grasping either spears, waddies, boomerangs, or 
other instruments. And so, after a series of evolutions too 
rapid and too wild to define, a signal was given by the beaters 
of time, upon which each fire was fed with a handful of dry 
leaves. These, instantly blazing up, illumined the whole 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


237 


scene, revealing the dusky figures of the performers, bright 
and agitated, quivering and vibrating, reeling and spinning, 
with admirable effect. 

Again the fires were fed, and the glare of the picture was 
more intense. It would have served for a sketch of Pande- 
monium. The jump now kept time with each beat, and at 
every leap the dancers took about six inches to one side ; 
while this motion was conducted in lines right and left. The 
entire tableau was thrilling, grand. The dark, wild forest 
scenery around, the bright fire-light gleaming on the savage 
and uncouth figures of the men, their naturally dark hue be- 
ing made to look absolutely unearthly by their rudely artificial 
coloring, which also gave them an indescribably ghastly and 
fiendish aspect; their grotesque attitudes, their peculiarly 
strange and energetic contortions and movements, together 
with the inhuman sound of their yelling song, mingled with 
the wild and monotonous wail of the women, made altogether 
a very near approach to the horribly sublime. 

The excitement produced among the actors by this dance 
was extreme. Comparatively listless at first, they were filled 
with sudden energy on joining in it, and every nerve was 
strung to the utmost degree. Then it was that animation, 
wild and picturesque, and thrilling in its theatrical intensity, 
lived in every movement, every gesture, and every cry, to 
which was given a momentary but vivid existence. The fires 
for a while sustained gradually lowered, and the performance 
ended by a triumphant flourish of many voices, accompanied 
with a loud tattoo beaten on the stretched skins; imme- 
diately after which there was a simultaneous descent to the 
ground, and a universal squatting of men and women round 
the fires, which were again fed, and great was the crackling 
and the blaze, the conversation and the glee. 

The light of morning was fast breaking above the eastern 
horizon ere the revels were done, and the feasting was over — 
for, reader, the corrobberri was followed by the roasting of a 
kangaroo, and much beside ; and the tail of the kangaroo was 
selected for us as a special dainty. My companion had looked 
forward to our being eaten by this time. 

“ \Ye must begone,” said I to him, after the feasting wa3 


238 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


qver, “ for the wild men wish to retire to their gunyas; and 
we to continue on our journey.” 

The horses had been left grazing at a short remove, and al- 
most within sight, and the dusky throng were somewhat scat- 
tered ; some, and the majority, squatted round the fires like 
ourselves, others were wandering about, and passing in and 
out of their gunyas. 

The stars were still shining through the gray sky of the 
dawn, as we rose from our seat on a log of wood, and intimated 
by signs that we were about to depart. The men wished us to 
linger, and pointed to the gunyas in which we might slumber 
and abide ; but we disregarded their entreaties, and set off to 
look after our horses. The multitude followed in our track, leap- 
ing and shouting as they went, and breaking into still greater 
merriment on the first sight of the horses ; for on the back of 
the nearest three natives were scrambling, one of whom was a 
woman, while the other was bounding across the plain a 
mile or more away, with about the same number clinging to 
him. 

This was fine sport, no doubt, for the equestrians, but not 
exactly the sort of amusement our wearied horses were likely 
to be disposed for; so we employed ourselves in reliev- 
ing them of their numerous riders, by pulling the latter off 
the horse nearest us, and waiting the return of the other one, 
in order to have the satisfaction of repeating the ceremony. 
This was accomplished after the lapse of about twenty minutes, 
when we mounted and rode off amid the shouts of the entire 
tribe. A scampering crowd of agile young runners accompa- 
nied us for nearly a mile, after which they turned back, and in 
all probability went to bed, and that at a more advanced hour 
than was usual with them — although the natives of Australia 
are notorious for sitting up half the night long. Hence per- 
haps their astronomical knowledge, which is very keen. 

We were away — galloping across the landscape, in the rising 
light of morning. 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE, 


239 


CHAPTER XLV. 

THE RETURN. 

“Wade,” said I, after we had left the scene of the corrob- 
berri far behind and were on the look-out for a squatter’s hut 
where we might breakfast, “I’ve hacTbnough of this. Rough- 
ing it in the bush is all very well in its way, but, vulgarly 
speaking, I have other fish to fry. Therefore, I propose that 
we make tracks for Sandhurst and our dog-cart at once, and 
from there drive straight back to Melbourne. I guess we’ll 
meet more bullets than nuggets by remaining here.” 

“As you say,” replied Reginald, “I'm ready, but I wouldn’t 
have missed these adventures on any account. By Jove, thL 
country beats Africa hollow. Those gentlemen of England 
who sit at home at ease, wouldn’t believe in this sort of thing 
for a moment, and would to a certainty, put us down as Mun- 
chausens, if we told them the plain unvarnished truth. Only 
fancy the luxury of being able to say when we are rheumatic 
cripples, half a century hence, that we saw or did this, that or 
the other thing, in our day. Why, I consider 1 sticking up’ 
cheap at the price we paid for it. Yes, old boy, I feel like Mark 
Tapley, perfectly jolly under the ordeal.'’ 

Had my mind been less pre-occupied with Gertrude Morgan 
and the romantic but painful circumstances which had been so 
recently disclosed to me, I should doubtless have felt as Regi- 
nald Wade did, and prolonged my stay in the bush, but my 
anxiety to return to New York overcame every other consider- 
ation, and my thoughts were engrossed in the contemplation 
of the woman I loved, and the drama in which my long lost 
mother now appeared as the central figure. How I yearned to 
meet them both ! Perhaps another letter from Gertrude had 
reached Melbourne during my absence, and I was not there to 
receive it ! The very thought disturbed me, and I reproached 
myself as I had often done before. 

We reached Sandhurst on the evening of the following day 
without mishap, and found our hired dog-cart in the yard of 
the stable where we left it. 


240 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


On our way back to Melbourne we put up at the inn at Kil- 
more, where we met with a variety of characters, among 
whom was one evidently associated with the squatting interest, 
whose conversation evinced a fearful neglect of his education, 
and an absence from the pale of good society. He narrated to 
me an episode in his bush life which well-nigh proved fatal, 
and which I submit in the language of the man, for the edifi- 
cation of those who may feel an interest in the nefarious ex- 
ploits of the bushranging hordes of the Australian wilder- 
ness : 

“Few of those who are out here now, sir, knows what us 
old hands had to go through — shut up in the bush — not see- 
ing a strange soul for many a month. I was down at Geelong 
many years ago ; I had come down with some sheep from a 
station I was then on. There was a fine young fellow with 
me. We’d done our business there, got our orders, and such 
like, and prepared to set off home. I took him back with me. 
So we filled a couple o’ bottles with rum in the town, and 
slung them on our saddles, and off we went. Old hands, like 
ns, sir, don’t mind a night out. Tether your horse, throw a 
blanket rouftd you, and there you are. 

“Well the moon was shining brightly, and Tom Brooks — 
that was my mate’s name — was singing out at the top of his 
voice some old song, when I saw, behind a clump of trees, a 
horse’s head. 

“ ‘ Hallo, Tom,’ says I, ‘ what’s ahead there ?’ 

“ Tom saw the head as well as I did, and trots up to the 
clump. 

“ ‘Hold hard, Tom,’ said I, 4 there’s some one besides.* 

“ ‘Throw your hands up,’ roars a big voice, and two chaps, 
with a couple of muskets, showed themselves, and covered us 
as cleanly as the thing could be done. 

“ ‘ Hands up,’ roars one of the men : mine went up directly. 
I hadn’t so much as a riding whip with me, and though I don’t 
mind tackling a man when I must do it, even now, I wasn’t 
going to fight a loaded gun. But poor Tom, who was full of 
valor from the drops of rum he’d been sipping during the day, 

cries out ‘Hands up b ,’ and charges at the fellow, full 

gallop. The ruffian took a clear aim, and I saw the poor fel- 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE, 


241 


low reel in his saddle. As the horse he was on, alarmed at the 
shot, plunged a little, I saw the body fall off — the feet, after a 
slight resistance, tumbled clear of the stirrup — saw the horse 
plunge on. Ay, sir, and see ifrnow as clearly as then, although 
so many years have passed away. It’s as fresh to me when I 
speak of it as if ’t were yesterday. All this didn’t take so long 
as it takes to tell it, when I saw poor Tom drop dead. I was 
about to push at his murderer, but the click of the other fel- 
low’s trigger made me stop, and when he said ‘Dismount,’ I 
did. There wasn’t a great deal to be got off me — a few pound 
notes, a silver watch, and an old ring, that I’d had fourteen 
year or so. Off poor Tom there warn’t so much, but what 
there was they took. While one fellow was searching me, the 
other covered me with his musket, and catching his eye, I, 

fool-like, muttered, half aloud, ‘ It’s Hooker. ’ ‘ By ,* 

cried one scoundrel, ‘ it’s Dick Tyler — he must die.’ 

“ But the little fellow was against shedding more blood ; 
and, after some talk, during which, I assure you, I felt very 
queer, they took my tether-rope, and commenced making me 
fast to a tree. It was in vain I told them they’d better kill me 
at once ; that few folks passed that road, and that it was as 
much murder to tie me there to starve as to stretch me, on the 
flat of my back, aside my poor mate. However, they tied me. 
They fastened me by the hands, legs, and neck to a tree, and 
never was a poor fowl put on the spit more tightly skewered 
than I was by my own tether-rope. After the chaps got off, I 
don’t know how I felt for an hour or two, but, after that, I 
know I began to feel queer. As I’d been tied, I could just see 
Tom’s head, and once or twice I thought I saw it move. Then 
every blast of the wind were so many voices in my ear : the 
villains coming back to finish me ; or the natives — for there 
were natives in those days — who might spear and eat me. 
Then I thought of all I’d been told about snakes and 
poisonous reptiles. And then, as morning dawned, I really 
believe I was half-mad. I can’t express exactly what I felt ; I 
know this, I tried once or twice to pray a bit, but I couldn’t, 
I suppose I began the Lord’s prayer twenty times, and stuck 
fast in the middle of it. As the sun got up, thirst and hunger 
took hold of me, and as my hat got knocked off while I was 
Q 


212 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


being made fast, its rays began to scorch my head, and almost 
sent me raving. Now I shouted loudly, in hope — a vain hope 
— some one might be passing, and hear me ; or that the bush- 
rangers would come back and finish me, which I thought 
would be the best thing for me. Then I cried, oh ! so pite- 
ously ; and then, again I tried to pray a bit, but I couldn’t 
again. It wasn’t that I was afraid to die — we all on us must 
die ; therefore, it’s no use fearing death. But to die in that 
way ; to die raving mad, from the effects of the sun, or of star- 
vation. The thoughts o’ that took hold on me in the middle of 
the prayer, and then I howled and bellowed. When I think 
what I suffered that day, I wonder I’m here to tell you. There 
was a heavy dew that night, and that eased my thirst a bit ; 
although, as I couldn’t turn my head, the moisture that was 
on my clothes was of little use to me. But hunger came on 
me ; and then, as the moon was rather dull next night, I be- 
gan again to dread the snakes, and so passed another fearful, 
horrid time on it. Day and night seemed as if ’t were all one. 
The sun got up again, and again I roared and shouted; but 
human nature was almost exhausted ; and I knows no more 
rhan, just after the sun crossed its line, I begun to babble of 
home, and of the parish church and school-house ; and then 
E remember crying bitterly ; and then — I remember no more. 

“How I got out of the scrape, was this : I told you the drays 
were left in town for supplies. Well, they started next day to 
us, and knowing Tom and me had these two big bottles, they 
thought they might push on and overtake us, and have a ca- 
rouse afore they parted company ; so, on they came, and I 
needn’t tell you, very surprised and very frightened they were, 
when they saw Brooks lying dead on the ground, and heard 
me chattering in a strange way some lingo, one of the men 
said as he’d never heard on before, fast bound to a tree, neither 
horses to be seen, and not a soul near. Well, sir, to cut my 
tale short, they soon spiled a cask o’ stuff they were taking 
home, and gave me a drink o’ that ; tea they couldn’t make, 
for there was no water near ; but they well rubbed my hands 
and head with spirits, and so got me round ; but it was a long 
job. Poor Tom’s body they put on one of the drays, and me 
on the other, and off they took us.” 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


243 


“And were the bushrangers taken ?” I asked. 

Not as I know on,” answered the man. “ We did all we 
could to catch them, but then and now are two different times, 
Sir, and nothing could be done.” 

■ ■ • 


CHAPTER XLYI. 

ANOTHER LETTER. 

We returned to Melbourne a week in advance of the earliest 
date named by Captain Whittlestick as his time for sailing, 
and found that he would be ready to leave in ten days. No 
other vessel we found was likely to sail sooner, so we waited. 

There was no letter for me at the Post-Office when I re- 
turned, but two days afterwards a ship arrived direct from 
New York. With impatience I lingered near the Post-office 
while the mail was being sorted, and when the delivery win- 
dows opened I was the first to present myself at “A to P,” 
and call my own name. 

To my great delight a letter was handed me, bearing the New 
York post-mark, but this time directed in a strange masculine 
hand. I felt a shock of disappointment and apprehension. 
Why had my darling Gertrude not written me, and who was 
the writer of this ? 

I opened it nervously and read : — 

New-York, Everett House, 

February 4, 1853. 

“ My Dear Young Friend : As your mother’s uncle, and 
one very much interested in you, I write at her suggestion, to 
request your immediate return, either to the United States or 
England, in order to be present during some very important 
legal proceedings, in which you are immediately and deeply 
concerned. 

“ The facts are mainly these: 

“Mr. Henry Duncan married my niece, Miss Harriet Gib- 
son, in London, in the year 1828, and within a year afterwards 


244 ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 

they left England on a visit to Newfoundland, where his father 
resided. They subsequently proceeded to the United States, 
and were living at Boston when a son was born. Immediately 
Mr. Duncan used his influence over his wife to induce her to 
allow her child to be put in charge of a nurse, to which, how- 
ever, she did not yield her assent. But a fever reducing her 
to a prostrate condition soon afterwards, her husband made 
use of the opportunity to carry out bis design of sending the 
child away. When she recovered, to her great grief, he in- 
formed her that the child was dead ; and all the circumstances 
favored this conclusion, and the mother believed she had really 
lost her child, and wept over its supposed grave in Mount 
Auburn Cemetery. 

“I have now to inform you that the representations made 
by Mr. Duncan, respecting his. son’s death, have been discov- 
ered to be false, and that the child he buried as his own was 
really one of other parentage, which he obtained from the 
Boston hospital. It has been shown, on the testimony of a 
girl who accompanied him in a carriage, and carried the child 
on the day it was taken from its mother’s side, that he gave 
it into the charge of a strange woman, Mrs. Kate Wilkins by 
name, near the village of Green, not far from Boston, giving 
her a hundred dollars at the time, and promising her period- 
ical payments for its maintenance. The boy remained seven 
years with her, and was then transferred to the care of Mrs. 
Bangs, the housekeeper of the Medical College, in Boston, 
where he remained till 1846, when he disappeared mysteriously. 
He was known as Washington Edmonds, and from all that I 
can learn, you are the missing one. 

“ Now, in order to account for the motive your father had in 
destroying your identity, it is necessary to tell you that your 
mother had a fortune, valued at nearly a hundred thousand 
pounds, a life interest in which, excepting a portion reserved 
for her own use, was settled on her husband on their marriage. 
Very soon afterwards she made a will, devising the whole of 
her property absolutely to him, if no issue should survive her. 
It was, therefore, all-important to him, actuated as he was by 
mercenary desires, that no issue should survive ; but not wish- 
ing to run the risk of adding crime to crime, he used all his 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


245 


skill to convince your mother that yon were dead, withont your 
actually being so. What his views may have been with regard 
to herself, I shall not venture to surmise. 

“I need hardly impress upon you further the urgent neces- 
sity that exists for your return by the next vessel sailing after 
your receipt of this, to facilitate which, in the event of its 
being ’otherwise pecuniarily inconvenient to you, I inclose a 
draft on the Union Bank, Melbourne, for two hundred pounds. 

“ My address in London is 12 Bryanston Square. 

“In New York you can learn where I am, on your arrival, 
from Mr. Robert Seymour, Counsellor-at-Law, 32 William 
Street, or in Boston, from Mr. John Fowler, 10 State Street. 

“ Your mother requests me to convey her warmest love to 
you, and anxiety to see you, and I remain 

“ Yours very sincerely, 

“ Edward Beresford.” 

In the same envelope there was a sealed inclosure, directed 
in a female hand, unmistakably English in its angularities. 

Thus it ran : 

“ My Dear Boy : Do return. Your long-lost mother yearns 
to see you. Write to me, and direct your letter to 12 Bryan- 
ston Square, London. I have been deprived of a life-long 
joy by supposing you were dead. May heaven preserve us to 
meet. It is now the one great wish of my existence, my dear, 
my only child. I do hope you will come soon. Do not delay a 
moment after you receive this. You will have a very warm 
fcnd affectionate welcome, and fortune will open a new prospect 
to you. My uncle’s letter explains all. For the sake of jus- 
tice, come. 

“ Your most loving but anxious mother, 

“ Harriet Duncan.” 

The handwriting of my mother ! Ho'v I gazed at it and 
kissed it, and pictured her before my mind’s eye, and read her 
character like a fortune-teller, by her caligraphy. What a 
beautiful and glorious reality she had become, and how I 
yearned to meet her — ah ! how fondly and with what tender 
filial affection and earnest solicitude ! There was now another 
to share my love. I adored Gertrude ; but my mother I How 


246 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


ecstatic the thought that I had a living mother. The realiza- 
tion of the dream of my life was joy, felicity, happiness, satis- 
faction. I was rewarded for all the trials, hardships, sufferings 
I had experienced. I soared on the wings of romance to 
heaven, and bugled music to the angels. I began a new life ; 
I breathed incense, sipped nectar, and feasted upon ambrosia. 
Do you laugh at me ? Then laugh ; it is but a step from the 
sublime to the ridiculous. 

My impatience made me long for the wings of a dove, so 
that I might flee to her ; and I fretted like a wild bird newly 
caged, at the restraints imposed by time and distance. Every 
thing but thought was too tardy for my purpose. 


CHAPTER XLVII. 

DR. SHARPE CATCHES A TARTAR. 

I was lounging with Reginald Wade in the sitting-room of 
the Prince of Wales Hotel, on the morning following the re- 
ceipt of the letter referred to in the preceding chapter, when 
Dr. Sharpe, late of the “ Harbinger,” presented himself with a 
black eye and many congratulations. 

“Doctor, Doctor, how came you by that?” asked Mr. 
Wade. 

“ Come by it, my dear Sir ! It’s a monstrous case. My 
first patient, too. I’ll tell you how it was. I’m to appear at 
the Police Court to-morrow morning about it. An assault 
warrant has been issued, and I hope the fellow will be punish- 
ed. It was just this way and he proceeded to explain how 
it happened. But instead of quoting his own words, I will 
give the evidence as it transpired on the following morning. 
When the case was called on, Dr. Sharpe stepped upon the 
witness-stand, and kissed his thumb-nail, to avoid contact 
with a somewhat odorous and discolored volume. 

“On Thursday,” said he, after being thus sworn, “I went 
to this man's house.” 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


247 


‘ 4 What’s that ?” exclaimed a red speckled-faced man with- 
out any perceptible eye-lashes, bobbing up like a jack in the 
box, near the complainant, and pulling out a brown memoran- 
dum-book, and sharpening his pencil. “Now, Sir, proceed.” 

“ I called,” resumed the Doctor, “at this man’s house to 
see a patient, who had arrived by the steamer “Harbinger” — of 
which I was surgeon on her last trip — when this man told me 
he was not at home. But I was certain that he was at home, 
and I said I would wait in the passage until I saw him. To 
this the defendant objected, and we had some words, which 
led to his striking me with the knob of a stick he carried.” 

“Perjury, and 111 prove it,” exclaimed the irate defendant. 
“It was a ruler,” and he muttered, “knob of a stick,” as he 
pencilled the words. 

“ He then,” continr J the Doctor, “ struck me a blow in the 
face with his fist, and 'used opprobrious language.” 

“Did he use more force than was necessary to oblige you to 
leave the house ?” inquired* the magistrate. 

“ I think he pushed me further than was requisite ” 

“ Ah ! totally false. I didn’t push him further than the pas- 
sage.” 

“My nose bled from the effects of the bio-"* and a boy, who 
is in court now, brought me a wash-hand b .n.” 

“Another falsehood,’ cried the irascible defendant. “ Wash- 
hand basin! it was, eh ? Ha! ha I” and his pencil was again 
busied. 

“Your conduct,” interrupted the magistrate, “is very im- 
proper, and I must insist that while you are here you conduct 
yourself with more respect.” 

“Ten thousand apologies,” was the reply. “I never en- 
tertained the most remote idea of offering disrespect to the 
bench. A highly comic thought having struck me, I couldn’t 
resist an ebullition of merriment.” 

The boy who had brought the wash-hand basin was now 
called as*a witness on behalf of the plaintiff. 

He was red-headed, freckled, pug-nosed, and apparently 
about twelve. The defendant’s attorney endeavored to pre- 
vent his being heard, and with this view he questioned him 
upon his knowledge of the nature of an oath. 


m 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


“ Do yon know what an oath is, boy ?” he asked. 

“ I think I do, Sir.* 

“What is it?” 

“ Oh !” interrupted the Doctor’s attorney, “ it is not every 
one that can define the nature of an oath. I question if many 
in court can.” 

“ Do you know what an oath is, boy ?* 

“I do, Sir.” 

“What is it?” 

“I can’t tell.* 

“Do you know what would become of you if you took a false 
oath ?” 

“ Something bad, Sir.* 

“What?” 

“ I don’t know, Sir.* 

“Where would you go if you took a false oath ?* 

“ Where would I go, Sir ? T don’t know.” 

“ Where would he probably go ?” interrupted the opposition 
attorney. 

“Do you know where hell is ?* 

“ I do, Sir.” 

“ Well, what do you think of that place if you took a false 
oath ?” 

“ I don’t know, Sir.* 

“ Do you ever go to church ?* 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Do you ever say your prayers ?” 

“Sometimes, Sir.’ 

“ You are going too deep into the theology of the case,” re- 
marked the magistrate. “Pray come to the point.” 

“Tell me, my boy,” said the latter, “do you know what’ll 
happen to you if you tell a lie ?” 

“ Is it where I’ll be sent to ?” he asked, looking round in 
evident consternation, towards the dock. 

“ Look at his Honor, my boy, and don’t be frightened,” said 
the attorney. “Where will you go to if you tell a lie?” 
“ Where will I be sent to?” 

“Aye, after you’re dead.” 

“ After I’m dead ?” said he, suddenly brightening up. “ Oh ! 
I’ll go to heaven, to be sure.” 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


249 


“ What, for telling a lie ?” 

“ Oh ! no; I’ll go to the devil, I suppose, for that.” 

“Swear the witness,” said the magistrate. “He under- 
stands the nature of an oath perfectly.” And he was sworn 
accordingly ; upon which he corroborated the Doctor’s testi- 
mony. 

“ Am I now permitted to enter upon my defence?” asked the 
defendant. 

“You can proceed,” said the magistrate; whereupon he 
elbowed a passage right and left, and threw himself into a 
Demosthenic attitude. “Fortunately, ’’said he, flourishing his 
note-book, “the strong points are already registered. It will 
only be necessary for me to give a succinct account of this very 
remarkable transaction. This person did call to see a gentle- 
man staying at my house ; and knowing that his indisposition 
had been brought on by want of medical skill on the part of 
the plaintiff, I determined, at all risk, to prevent his ingress 
into the chamber of the invalid. With this view I stationed 
myself at the foot of the stairs, and with my walking-stick, as- 
sumed an attitude no prudent man would have ventured to 
disturb. The plaintiff insisted on passing. I remonstrated. 
He attacked me. I defended myself ; and after a short but 
desperate combat, I achieved a victory by placing him on his 
back in the passage. To this single statement I feel it quite 
unnecessary to a<J d another syllable” — hereupon he retired, 
but returned again to finish his sentence — “except to impress 
on the Bench th* right every British subject has of ejecting 
intruders from his house. It is impossible to say another 
word on this subject.” And he retired again, only, however, 
to again come forward. “Except that, as an educated person, 
I consider the use of opprobrious epithets unfit for a man — im- 
proper for ” 

“Pray, Sir, be quiet,” said the magistrate. 

“Improper for a gentleman and disgraceful to a member of 

?> 

At this juncture a policeman took hold of him by the collar, 
and stood before him* with a view of awing him into silence; 
but peeping under the officer’s arm, he finished his sentence by 
ejaculating— “of a civilized community.” 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


250 

To the Doctor’s surprise, the magistrate gave it as his opi- 
nion that the complainant ought not to have persisted in re- 
maining in the house, and that as the testimony as to who 
made the first assault was conflicting, he must discharge the 
warrant. 

And so ended the great little difficulty which initiated Dr. 
Sharpe into the mysteries of practice in Australia. 


CHAPTER XLYin. 

ON THE ORINOCO. 

The time at length came when the “ Blue Peter” fluttered 
from the mast-head of the “ Orinoco,” as a signal that she was 
about to sail, and that a pilot was wanted. Captain Whittle- 
stick was on board giving orders in his usual sledge-hammer 
style, and so were Reginald Wade and myself. The sailors 
were busy moving from point to point of the ship letting- go 
ropes, bending sails, and weighing anchor with their cheery 
“ Heigh-hi-ho. ” The warm June sunshine was lighting up the 
broad bay, and the rigging of the hundreds of ships at anchor, 
and a moderately fresh breeze, filled the sails of about a dozen 
vessels tacking into port. 

“Well, you were very successful in getting a crew,” I re- 
marked to Captain Whittlestick. 

“Very successful, over the left, you mean, I guess,” said he, 
rolling a quid in his mouth. “ I’m only about half-manned, 
and half the fellows I’ve got are land-lubbers, who’ll leave me 
at Callao to hunt up those Peruvian gold mines that the 
papers have had so much to say about lately. Some folks are 
never satisfied, and don’t know a good thing when they have it. 
These darned critters know no better than to leave a certainty 
for an uncertainty. There’s no accounting for tastes.” 

“ Well, Captain,” I ventured to remark, “if we have much 
heavy weather the crew will be any thing but a happy family, 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


251 


and we’ll stand a chance cf going to Davy Jones’s locker before 
our time.” 

“ Leave me alone for that,” said he, “I’m as good as half a 
dozen hands myself, on a pinch, and it’s not the first time I’ve 
been short-handed, by a long shot. I never lost a ship but 
once, and that was through no fault of mine — eh, Washington ?’ 

“ She’s a little crank, Captain,” I observed, as she lurched 
rather heavily. 

“Yes, the sons of guns promised me a hundred tons more 
ballast, but they never brought it, and I couldn’t wait till 
doomsday. I ordered three hundred tons of sand and only got 
two. She’s too high out of the water, that’s a fact, but I guess 
I’ll put her through all right.” 

The result of the ship being under-ballasted, was that she 
keeled over in a fresh breeze, more like a yacht in a regatta 
than a clipper of twelve hundred tons, and as we met with 
heavy weather from the first day we were at sea, life on board 
was the reverse of comfortable, and eating and drinking were 
achievements requiring more dexterity than they are usually 
considered to call for. Sails were split, the maintopgallant 
masts were carried away, and all hands were kept hard at 
work. 

Troubles never come alone. One morning, while the ship 
was laying-to in a hurricane under bare poles, I heard a scuffle 
on deck. The captain was in the cabin at the time, but he 
ran up, and then the commotion of feet increased, but I could 
not hear the sound of voices owing to the deep whistling roar 
of the wind through the rigging. 

I had just come down from the deck, where the spectacle was 
sublime — the sea running literally mountains high, and covered 
with flying foam, while the wind blew so hard that to face it was 
to lose my breath, and the air was thick with spray. The helm 
was lashed, and the ship rolled helplessly in the raging sea. 

I rushed on deck, and saw the captain struggling with one 
of the seamen, upon whom he inflicted a tremendous blow 
which sent him flying against the bulwarks, where his head 
struck with such force that I feared his skull was fractured. 
The man lay stunned and livid while Captain Whittlestick ut- 
tered a volley of imprecations against him. 


252 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE, 


“ What did he do ?” I enquired. 

“Do, — the cuss, — he threw Marlin, the mate, over- 

board.” 

“Threw the mate overboard just now?” I exclaimed with a 
shudder. 

“ Aye. He did it just as I came on deck. I was a second 
too late to stop him — darn his eyes.” 

We looked over the ship’s side, but of course no sign of the 
poor man w r as visible, and if there had been, it would have 
been impossible to render him any assistance, as no boat 
could have been launched in such a sea. The first wave would 
have stove it in like an egg-shell. 

“It would have served him right,” reflected Whittlestick, 
“ if I had put my knife into his gizzard.” 

At that moment the crest of a heavy sea swept the poop 
deck and washed the body of the unconscious seaman to the 
opposite side of the ship, and as it went it left a track of 
(blood. The man was bleeding at the back of the head. 
! There he lay motionless — a melancholy spectacle. 

“ That man’s dead, I think,” said the second mate who came 
on deck an hour afterwards, turning him over and examining 
him. And dead he really was. 

“ Serves him right,” ejaculated the Captain. “Have his 
body searched for valuables, if he has any, and then chuck him 
overboard, but be sure he’s dead before you do it. He ought 
to have been sent after poor Marlin alive, the cuss, — that 
would have been an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, and 
such chaps hate to be paid in their own coin. Oh, they feel 
very bad about it, I can tell you, particularly when they sud- 
denly find a bullet or a bowie knife finding its way among 
their precious giblets. However, I was brought up a God- 
fearing Baptist, — going to meeting twice every Sunday, — and 
I wouldn’t wilfully send a man to his long account, but 
when he tries to throw me overboard, after he has thrown 
my mate, I feel just like settling his hash in double-quick 
time.” 

In about two hours afterwards the dead sailor’s body was 
tipped by the carpenter from a plank on the main deck over 
the ship’s side. The fall was scarcely heard by those on board 


ADKIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 253 

who witnessed it, and the body instantaneously disappeared 
beneath the foam. 

The ship’s crew having been thus decimated, and another of 
the hands being sick and confined to his bunk, the under- 
manning became a serious matter, and for our own safety, if 
nothing more, I volunteered to render all the assistance I 
could, and took my place in the watch like any sailor, while 
Reginald Wade expressed his willingness to do likewise. 

The weather continued very stormy and cold, and several 
times the ship brooched-to and came within an ace of founder- 
ing, and I had to go aloft along with the crew to furl sails. On 
three occasions, too, the sand ballast shifted, and the vessel 
nearly capsized. The spare water casks, also, which had been 
filled with salt-water as ballast, broke away from their lashings 
and were knocked into staves. Notwithstanding all this, how- 
ever, we made the voyage from port to port in thirty-five days, 
during which time, except when within view of the coast on 
starting and arriving, we did not sight a single saiJ. A lonely 
waste of waters is the South Pacific, and anything but true to 
its name. 

The town of Callao, looking like so much stage-scenery, ap- 
peared before us as we lay anchored in the picturesque bay, 
with the lofty Andes looming up in the background. Alike 
with Reginald Wade I was glad to go ashore, and our first 
business after landing was to engage our passage on the next 
English steamer for Panama. She was due in four days after* 
wards from Valparaiso, so we passed most of the intervening 
time in Lima, the capital of the Peruvian republic — 
seven miles distant by railway, — and made good use 
of our time in sight-seeing. We strolled through the beau- 
tiful alamedas, the plazas, the streets — each with its 
running brook down the centre — the old cathedrals — whose 
bells are ever ringing — and actually tried to dance the lancers 
on horseback, according to the fashion of the country. We 
attended the theatres — of which there were two — played bil- 
liards in the hotels, and dined at the British Minister’s, Mr. 
Wade having been acquainted with the family of the latter — 
who was soon afterwards assassinated while bathing — at home. 

We saw the priests playing at dice-monte in the gambling- 


254 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


rooms and the senoritas walking the streets in light French 
slippers, with head and face — all but one eye — concealed by 
the silk shawls which have taken the place of the sayoa manta , 
and the turkey-buzzards perched on the housetops. But the 
great sight of the city — the bull-fight — came off as a usual 
thing only on Sunday, and we were advised not to miss seeing 
that on any account, so I agreed with Reginald Wade to go, 
notwithstanding it was the Sabbath day — which I always re- 
member and strive to keep holy — for the reason that I hold it 
as a rule to be good doctrine to do in Rome as the Romans 
do. Here was a national custom, and I would at least witness 
it once, if only in the spirit of a moral reformer. 

Sunday came, and with it the festivities of the week. The 
church-bells rang out with even more than usual clangor ; crowds 
of gay-looking men, and graceful senoritas, full of witchery 
and languishing graces, moved along the side-walks, and, 
mass over, all Lima flirted, and played at billiards, and gam- 
bled, and went to the bull-fight preparatory to the theatres 
in the evening, and held their revels with the spirit and delight 
of people to whom pleasure and gayety are indispensable ele- 
ments of daily existence. 

At two o’clock this Sabbath afternoon, I threaded my way 
with Reginald Wade and Captain Whittlestick — who had acci- 
dently met us at our hotel — through the Calle de Commercio, 
and the Plaza, both of which were thronged with people, and 
then across the stone bridge, built in 1638 — five hundred and 
fifty feet in length, and supported by six arches — after which, 
turning to the right, we entered the cool shade of the Alameda, 
leading to, and passing the Plaza firme del Acho, or bull-ring. 

Sunday was evidently the day on which to see the people of 
Lima to advantage, and here was the place par excellence. I 
lingered with pleasure upon the prospect, as viewed from the 
vicinity of the bridge in the eastern suburb. It was much 
more picturesque and extensive than that seen from the other, 
or Lima, side of the river. The walled sides of the city flank- 
ing the stream, and overgrown with creeping plants, and stunt- 
ed wall shrubs, inclosed half-ruined buildings, quaint in archi- 
tecture, and so close to the wall as almost to overhang it, and 
threaten, on the first motion of an earthquake, to topple over 


ADEIET WITH A VENGEANCE. 


255 


into the water beneath. The stream itself, untraversed by a 
boat, was a pleasing feature in the landscape, as the eye took 
in its winding course, and traced it among rocks and sand- 
banks, and over plains of verdure towards its ocean embou- 
chure, seven miles away. Eastward and northward, the dark 
and giant mountains rose in the distance — their whitened sum- 
mits lost in a cap of cloud — and nearer, the spurs of the Cor- 
dillera, whose conical peaks were crowned with crucifixes, 
while the delicious Alameda formed a beautiful vista for a mile 
and more to the south. 

Crowds of equestrians, pedestrians, and a few wheeled vehi- 
cles, chiefly belonging to foreigners, were moving leisurely in 
the direction of the bull-ring. All ranks of the community 
were here represented. We paid half-a-dollar each, the price 
of admission, and entered the amphitheatre. There we found 
that we could either take our places on the seats that circled 
the ring, and rose in tiers one above the other, or pay an ad- 
ditional price for a seat in a private box. There were two 
rows of these boxes, one on the ground level, and above which 
rose the seats of the amphitheatre ; and the other which was 
gained by ascending a flight of ricketty wooden stairs outside 
the building. We chose chairs in one of the upper boxes, 
and paid an extra half-dollar accordingly. 

“ It’s just about fourteen years since I paid my money here 
first,” remarked Captain Whittlestick, “and hen I came 
pretty near getting gored by one of the bulls that broke loose 
behind the scenes somewheres.” 

* “ Then is there danger ?” asked Keginald Wade. 

“ I guess not much,” was the captain’s rejoinder, and we all 
ascended together. 

The size of the place may be readily imagined, when I say 
that it was capable of containing eight thousand people, and 
that few short of that number were now present. The scene 
was, altogether, brilliant and exciting. Exquisitely dressed 
ladies, with their faces concealed by the shawl or mantilla — 
forming a complete disguise, and sacred from another’s touch — 
and men, in equally elegant attire, were seated in their boxes ; 
while thousands of the lower orders, in their bright and pic- 
turesque costumes, filled the entire tiers of seats up to the 


256 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


roof, all busily conversing together, or signalizing each other 
in the most happy manner. A fine band of music struck up 
as I looked round, and immediately afterwards the President 
— General Eamon Castilla — and his suite, entered in full uni 
form, and took their places in a box reserved for them. 

A few moments afterwards the music ceased, and as sudden- 
ly the hum of voices gave place to intense silence, as several 
men in tight garments, light in texture and color, entered the 
ring through a doorway, each with a bright-colored flag in his 
hand, following whom came several horsemen, and a horse- 
woman, each armed with long spears and waving pennons, all 
of whom entered with a rush, and to the blast of a solitary 
trumpet. The capeodores — men on foot — bowed to the assem- 
bly, and the horses of the picadores curveted about in evident 
excitement and timidity, for they were animals trained to the 
bull-ring, and, knowing its dangers, were as agile and dexter- 
ous in their movements as the men. There was another out- 
break of voices, and the performers were hailed with delight 
by the immense concourse. 

Again there was a sudden silence, as a door facing that by 
which the performers had entered was thrown open by one of 
the men on foot, who concealed himself behind it, and all eyes 
were directed towards the open door. 

“Now the fun begins,” remarked Captain Whittlestick. 
“ Just watch how these cold-blooded sinners will gloat over 
the torture of the poor dumb brutes. It’s a pity they’ve no 
Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals here as you 
have in your country, Mr. Wade. If some terrible accident 
were to occur here — and there’s nothing more likely in such a 
flimsily built concern — I should think it was a visitation of 
Providence upon them for desecrating the Sabbath and indulg- 
ing in such a savage sport. But I guess they think it’s ail 
right — habit is second nature, and “what’s bred in the bone 
comes out in the flesh.” 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


257 


CHAPTER XLIX. 

THE FATAL BULL FIGHT. 

The silence was broken, but the excitement grew intense 
when a bull came bounding furiously through the doorway 
into the arena, with uplifted tail and lowered head. For a 
moment he paused, and with a savage roar, upraised horns, and 
a maddened, infuriated look — the result of recent torture in- 
flicted behind the scenes — took a survey of his position, and 
then rushed wildly at the man nearest him in the ring, who 
escaped by running into one of the retreats — places of refuge 
provided for the purpose — the bull galloping after him at 
such a tremendous rate of speed that the mere concussion of 
the animal against the side of the amphitheatre shook the 
whole structure in that vicinity. 

Foiled and enraged, the brute turned quickly round and 
charged those near him, who added to his rage by flinging 
barbed arrows at his neck, where they stuck, and tortured him 
still morb. As the bull rushed, so the runners and the riders 
dispersed, the former seeking refuge when necessary in the 
retreats round the arena, or in a small wooden inclosure in the 
centre provided for the same purpose, and where the tormen- 
tor waved his flag in the enraged animal’s eyes, and avoided 
the horns which were thrust at him by moving in a circle 
within the paling. The bull betrayed great disappointment 
and anger at not being able to reach his enemy, and he 
stamped and bellowed and quivered, till bewildered by the 
crimson cloaks that were waved before his eyes, he turned 
about and this time directed his attack upon one of the eques- 
trians — the female — when, notwithstanding the quick ma- 
noeuvre of both horse and rider, the horns were planted in the 
animal’s side, and over it went, rolling its rider on the ground. 
The picadores and capedores at once rushed forward in a 
body, and diverted the attention of the bull by a dexterous 
waving of their flags. 

The prostrate woman, who had remained face downwards 
and perfectly motionless after the overthrow — a plan invariably 


258 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


adopted under such circumstances by all bull-fighters, in order 
to induce a cessation of hostilities on the part of the bull, who 
never gores his dead victim — was on her feet, alike with the 
wounded steed, the instant the author of her downfall had 
galloped off to the other side of the ring. 

The immense concourse made the amphitheatre resound 
with their cries of Viva ! Viva ! and the quivering animal, 
with its entrails hanging from the recently inflicted wound 
— the woman, armed with her long spear, seated cross- 
legged on its back — was curveted about to avoid the assaults of 
the bull, j ust as it had been before the accident. Arrow after 
arrow was now thrown at the neck of the frantic, persecuted 
boast, whose impotent rage was most terrible to witness, as, with 
glaring and bloodshot eyeballs, and foaming nostrils, he stood 
at bay, quivering in every joint, and sending up bellowings of 
anger and defiance. Yainly he again endeavored to annihi- 
late his opponents ; rushing at one he was pursued by another, 
until paralyzed by rage and exhaustion, he with maddened 
eye warily watched his tormentors, and only charged at 
intervals. There was a flourish of trumpets, and the mata- 
dor presented himself sword in hand. He was to inflict the 
death-blow. 

Shouts of Viva ! Viva! rang round the building. The ma- 
tador now calmly awaited the onset of the infuriated animal, 
whose attention he attracted by waving his red cloak, the 
other combatants on foot having meanwhile retired to the re- 
treats, or ceased waving their colors. The bull, just now 
pawing the ground, and giving vent to his agony in a savage 
roar of wrath, suddenly dashed forward with measured plunge, 
lowered head, and closed eyes — bulls always charge with 
their eyes shut — towards his adversary, who stood with his 
flag raised in the left hand, and his sword steadily poised in the 
right. The very earth seemed to tremble beneath the violence 
of his charge. 

At that instant, the matador, coolly aiming his thrust, 
.plunged the weapon deep between the shoulders, and so into 
the spinal marrow of the now vanquished bull. But he still 
strove to advance a few paces further towards his enemy, only 
however to falter at the first step, and fall groaning on his 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


259 


knees ; he uttered another groan, darted another heart- 
rending look of agony and despair, and then rolled over. 
Another feeble effort followed ; his eyes glazed, and he was 
dead. It was a pitiable, cruel sight ! Meanwhile the shouts 
of Viva ! Viva! wereienewed in compliment to the successful 
matador. The door by which the riders had entered was now 
thrown open, and the trumpets again sounded, when in came 
four well-caparisoned horses driven at a gallop, and harnessed 
to a small pair of wheels. Suddenly they stopped in front of 
the carcass, and buckling the head of the one to the axle of 
the other, the rider of one of the horses cracked his whip, and 
away they galloped, dragging the slain along the ground after 
them, and disappearing in a moment. 

The equestrians followed at the same rapid pace, and with 
them the sickening spectacle of the bull-gored horse. There 
was an interval of about five minutes, during which there was 
much animated conversation going forward, and many signals 
exchanged. A flourish of trumpets succeeded, the picadores 
again entered the ring, the capeodores took up their positions, 
and the door for the bull was once more opened by one of the 
runners who stood behind it, while the bull, horns down and 
tail erect, plunged through into the ring with as much wrath 
and fury depicted in his looks as had been exhibited by his 
predecessor. 

The wounded horse was again quivering and curveting in 
evident pain, fear, and excitement, and the runners were again 
flinging their barbed arrows, and the riders pricking with their 
lances as the infuriated bull rushed and charged madly round 
the ring, while the buzz of voices, and the waving of red flags, 
increased his rage and bewilderment, and the vivas of the 
multitude encouraged the picadores to imperil themselves still 
more, and perform their most skilful and active feats of daring 
and evasion. Meanwhile the ground shook with the heavy 
bounding tramp of the savage, roaring, and persecuted animal, 
that, foiled in his desperate attempts to gore his tormentors, 
paused in his mad career, stamped the earth, foamed at the 
nostrils, and quivered in every limb, — the tire of rage and the 
madness of despair flashing in his blood-shot eyes. Thus for 
a moment he paused, panting, and bleeding from the wounds 


2G0 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


of the arrows that were lodged in his flesh ; and with lowered 
brow, fiercely glancing at his foes. 

At this stage, the matador, not the same, however, who dis- 
patched the first bull, appeared with hi^ sword, and, waving 
his red flag before the eyes of the brute from a conspicuous 
position, awaited his onset. The animal, measuring well his 
distance, charged with heavy furious tramp. The matador 
poised his slender, burnished blade, and, directing his aim at 
the proper moment of advance, plunged it up to the hilt in the 
same spot as that chosen by his predecessor. 

The animal halted instantly, belching floods of blood from 
the mouth and nostrils, in the most fearful, sickening, almost 
heart-rending manner ; and the sword having gone completely 
through his chest, so that the point of the blade protruded 
from his breast, he was also bleeding from that part, as well as 
between the shoulders. The vomiting of blood was so great 
as to be suffocating, and the poor brute, with an imploring, 
gasping effort, sank on his knees, with his sides opening and 
collapsing, like the motion of a pair of bellows ; but it was 
only for a moment, and then his eyes glazed in death, and the 
huge monument of beef gave not even a post-mortem twitch 
or quiver. 

Again the trumpets sounded, and the buzz of voices filled 
the air, while the large doorway was thrown open, and in at 
flying pace rushed the horses with the wheels. A crack of the 
postillion’s whip was the signal for the caballos to plunge for- 
ward, and out they galloped with the carcass in their wake, 
and again the sickening spectacle of the wounded steed 
was curveted out of the ring. Five other bulls were similarly 
introduced into the arena, and shared a like fate. One of these 
it was intended to dispatch by applying a tap er to a charge of 
gunpowder that had been fastened to the crown of his head 
before his admission into the circus. On the light being ap- 
plied, the report produced was equal to that of a piece of 
ordnance, and, in addition to filling the amphitheatre with a 
cloud of smoke, the explosion tended very much to deafen the 
crowd. The bull fell instantly, without a struggle or a quiver, 
and as suddenly as a piece of lead when dropped. 

Again there were many vivas, and in galloped the horses. 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


261 


The head was being buckled to the wheels, when suddenly up 
rose the bull with a stagger, and dashed at one of the flag- 
bearers near him. The four horses and the wheels were off at 
the moment, and the gates closed, while the bull, quickly re- 
gaining consciousness, ran round the ring, attacking and dis- 
persing the whole bevy of toreros, and plunging his horns 
into another horse that he overthrew, inflicting at the same 
time a severe horn- wound in the thigh of the rider, but in- 
stead of lingering over his fallen adversary, rushing at the 
rest of the party. 

Instantly both man and rider regained their former position, 
and curveted about before the attacks of the bull, who was 
more troublesome, in consequence of his being half-stunned 
than any of the others. At length the matador adroitly at- 
tracted his attention, and dispatched him with the sword, after 
the manner already described ; even then he struggled more, 
and died a harder death than any one of the others. The ex- 
citement of a rider being overthrown was very great, and was 
evidently relished by the audience. 

After a brief interval, the last bull came bounding into the 
ring, and a moment later an ominous crack as of break- 
ing timbers, was heard. The audience started, and all eyes 
were turned towards the spot from which it came. Almost 
simultaneously, Captain Whittlestick exclaimed, “The boxes 
are giving way,” and we felt that part of the flimsy structure 
in which we were seated, tumbling down. 

We had no time for either reflection or escape, but were 
literally emptied into the bull ring, with a loud crash of fall- 
ing timbers and frantic cries of men and women for help. 

Captain Whittlestick was thrown head foremost further into 
the ring than any one else I could see, but that he was not fa- 
tally injured by his fall, was evident from his immediately at- 
tempting to rise. The matadors had fled from the arena in 
the consternation occasioned by the giving way of this por- 
tion of the building, and the other and much larger portions 
which remained standing were being rapidly deserted by the 
panic-stricken crowd. 

The Captain was struggling to extricate himself from the 
debris, when he was charged upon by the bull and gored dread- 


262 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


fully in the body and afterwards in the face. Two of the ma- 
tadors, at this juncture, rushed forward and attracted the sa- 
vage animal away by flirting their flags before him, after which 
one of them, armed with a sword, dispatched him like the 
others. 

The groans of the injured were now heard among the ruins, 
and the attendants regaining their presence of mind, came to 
their assistance. Fortunately, Reginald Wade and myself es- 
caped with a few bruises, and were able to go to the relief of 
Captain Whittlestick, who, on being gored the second time, 
had uttered a yell and fallen back like a dead man. 

We found him presenting a ghastly spectacle, quite uncon- 
scious, and breathing very feebly. 

One of the bull’s horns had we saw pierced the socket of 
his left eye and apparently entered the brain, and there was 
a deep gash in the centre of his body a little below the ribs. 

The tumult continued in the boxes caused by the rush to 
get out of the building, and weak men and women were tram- 
pled under remorselessly by the stronger, in their terrible 
fright. The general impression was that the accident had 
been caused by an earthquake, but subsequent investigation 
showed that it was attributable only to rotten timbers. 

We dispatched two or three messengers for doctors, and 
meanwhile laid our wounded friend flat on his back in the open 
ring. His breathing gradually became fainter and his extre- 
mities colder, and when a doctor arrived in about twenty 
minutes afterwards, the latter shook his head, felt his pulse, 
and pronounced him no more. 

I turned away from the sight in tears, and exclaimed to Re- 
ginald, “ Verily, in the midst of life we are in death.” 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


263 


CHAPTER L. 

ONWARD TO NEW YORK. 

All Lima was in a ferment over the catastrophe — which re- 
sulted in several more deaths — and nearly the whole popula- 
tion flocked to the scene. 

The American Minister took charge of Captain Whittlestick’s 
remains, and as we were to sail from Callao early in the after- 
noon of the next day, it was arranged that his funeral should 
take place in the morning. Besides the Minister, a Peru- 
vian official from the department of foreign affairs, and the 
padre who performed the ceremony, Reginald Wade and my- 
self, were the sole mourners, and it was with a deep melan- 
choly that I scattered flowers on the bier. Fortunately, the 
Captain left neither widow nor children to mourn his loss. 

At the appointed time we left Callao on board the double- 
funneled paddle steamer “Lima.” The ocean was calm and 
glistened in the sunlight, and the mighty mountains reared 
high their whitened summits, while the rugged edges of their 
sweeping sides bristled against the flashing heavens, and tbe 
azure of their hue and the ocean’s tranquil blue, combined to 
make up a picture of peaceful splendor that delighted the eye 
of at least one on board that gliding craft. 

We kept well in with the coast, never losing sight of the 
Andes, and called at port after port on the way, till after we 
had left Guayaquil. Then we steamed direct for Panama. 

My impatience to reach New York, if possible, increased, as 
the distance separating me from the goal of my hopes gradu- 
ally lessened, and I passed much of my time in reading the 
cherished epistles I had received at Melbourne, and in con- 
templating my now glowing future. Every morning when I 
awoke I opened the case containing the small daguerreotype por- 
trait of Gertrude — the likeness that I had carried next my 
heart ever since I left New York on that sad day — and kissed 
it fervently, and every night and morning, too, I prayed for 
her and her restoration to me with passionate earnestness. 


2G4 


ADKIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


and anticipated with joyful longing the hour when we would 
meet to part no more. And as often as I uttered sincere 
thanksgivings to the Almighty for preserving me for her 
through all the dangers I had encountered. I involuntarily 
shuddered when I thought of my own narrow escapes, and 
contrasted my own health and strength with the fate of others 
whose lot had been cast with mine — the mate of the “Orinoco” 
and poor Captain Whittlestick among them. How much I had 
to thank Divine Providence for ! 

The great Cordillera still lifted its rugged sides against the 
clear sky, as day by day we drew nearer to our destination. 
The trade wind died away, the heat became excessive, and not 
a sea-bird could be seen. Once only and that for a few hours, 
did we lose sight of the Andes and the now foliaged coast 
lands. Passing the island of Gorgona, and meeting here and 
there, as we went, a grey old sperm whale rolling leisurely 
along and baring his sides to the sunlight, we early on the 
third morning from Guayaquil entered the beautiful bay of 
Panama, studded with islets covered with tropical verdure and 
looking charmingly picturesque. 

We had to wait in Panama two days before the steamer from 
San Francisco connecting with that from Aspinwall to New 
York, arrived. Then we were jolted in a very long train 
drawn by an asthmatic locomotive across the isthmus — a little 
over forty miles in about five hours. The railway was a chan- 
nel cut through the jungle — a pestilential forest rising from a 
black swamp. Lofty palms and plantain trees, climbing plants 
innumerable, and flowers of every hue flourished in wild luxu- 
riance in this tropical labyrinth, while brilliantly plumaged 
birds, butterflies, and even monkeys were to be seen and 
heard among the branches of the larger trees. 

After reaching Aspinwall — a flat unpicturesque town built 
on a reclaimed swamp — we embarked the same evening on 
board the steamer “Illinois” for New York, but called at 
Kingston, Jamaica, on the way, to coal, and I regret to say 
that the necessary labor of coaling was performed by negro 
women, while negro men lounged idly by. 

Bound flew the paddle-wheels the next morning, and we had 
resumed our voyage towards the Empire City. 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE, 


265 


CHAPTER LI. 

THE HOUSE IN UNION* SQUARE* 

A prosperous voyage, and lo! the bay of New-York. Regi- 
nald Wade and I landed together at the Battery. I felt a 
strange joyful thrill of emotion, not unmixed with anxiety 
however, as I hurried into Broadway, and with my companion 
entered the first omnibus that passed. 

I was trembling with the delights of anticipation, and withal 
nervous with apprehension. Was she living? was she well ? 
Was my mother still in New York ? Would I meet them both 
before night? Oh ! how much I longed to know what weal or 
woe the day had in store for me ! Yet I felt that disappoint- 
ment would kill me ; and I was eager to embrace the grim 
tyrant Death, if that great enemy of us all had already taken 
one without whom life was to me no longer worth having. If 
that vision by the Yarra Yarra told a true tale, then welcome, 
welcome the Omega of existence. I had no love of the world 
for its own sake ; I had ever found it bitter in its fruits, and 
yielding no rest to any but the fortunate few ; and I spurned 
its pomps and vanities, and looked forward to ultimate dissolu- 
tion for relief. Death! that dreadful word, but how full of solace 
to the despairing, heart-stricken, and way-worn traveller over 
this arid desert of the world. 

Was she dead ? was she living ? 

How vital were those questions, and how my very life hung 
upon the answer. 

A nervous pallor overspread my countenance as the huge, 
awkward vehicle threaded its way up Broadway, and I gazed 
on the throngs that filled the side-walks, not knowing but 
that a single glance might reveal my destiny. Reginald Wade 
left me when we reached the Metropolitan Hotel, and I pur- 
sued my way alone. It was with some trepidation that I 
walked from the omnibus at the corner of Fourteenth Street 
to the house on the east side of Union Square. I rang the 
bell and nerved myself for the revelation that was so soon to 
follow. 


266 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


“ Is Miss Morgan at home ?'* 

“ Yes, Sir !” said the old servant, recognizing me at a glance. 
“ She’ll be so glad to see you. Wait till I tell her.” 

1 sprang with new life across the threshold, and with a heart 
palpitating with joy, was ushered into the parlor. 

I was agitated with emotion and the delights of anticipa- 
tion. I was almost paralyzed with joy, but what a sacred joy 
it was, — so nearly allied to grief that when I heard a sudden 
rustling of a woman’s garments on the stairs, a moment after 
which my idol plunged wildly into my embrace, I burst into a 
floor of tears and wept a sincere thanksgiving. How passion- 
ately she clung to me with a tender cry of endearment, and 
mingled her tears with mine on my cheek, and how respon- 
sively I clasped her to my heart and kissed her again and 
again. 

Here was true, unadulterated, unspoilt mutual affection — a 
rare thing, and I say it with sorrow. How few indeed are 
blessed with it, and yet how many sacrifice themselves by per- 
petrating the mockery of marriage without feeling the divine 
impulse. Probably if every body knew every body, every body 
would find somebody to love and be loved by, but every body 
not knowing every body every body doesn’t — not by any 
means.” 

“ Washington — dearest,” spoke Gertrude, when her joy and 
grief and tears had somewhat subsided, “ I am so glad you are 
here — so very happy.” But a fresh burst of tears again over- 
whelmed her. 

“ So am I, my love,” said I, and our embrace tightened. 
But I too could say little, much as I felt. And silence was 
more eloquent than words. 

“I have been waiting for you so long,” she said, “and 
what dreadful months of suspense I have endured! What 
hope and despondency, and even despair, I have felt ; I shud- 
der to think of it. O Washington ! if you only knew all, you 
would pity me ; ” and again she sobbed almost hysterically. 

Suddenly she looked up at me with glittering, gleaming 
eyes : 

“ Don’t you see how changed and haggard I am ?” 

I did see it ; but I only felt that she wi.s the same to me as 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


267 


ever. Disappointment had ploughed her features, and, 
alas ! I saw too plainly that sorrow had withered her in her 
youth, I saw, alas ! in her face “ Consumption’s waning 
cheek,” and, O God! I shuddered to think that Death had 
possibly marked her for its prey — Death the great leveller of 
us all. And had it come to this, that after all my misfortune s 
and perils and struggles, the idol of my existence was to pass 
away as soon as it came within my grasp ? How hard I tried 
to dispel the fatal presentiment ; and then how eagerly I 
hoped that we might die together ! 

I had no wish to survive her, no more than her love for me. 
My desire was to be buried with either in the one grave. Our 
souls were too closely united together ever to be disunited in 
lif9. To me at least disunion would have been death: I 
should have traversed the streets — perhaps for a day or year — • 
a walking sepulchre — and then another worm would have re- 
turned to mother earth — a happy relief, for existence is not 
always worth having, and may it not become unbearable? 

Melancholy reflections these for a lover newly returned from 
a distant country after a long absence ; but was the beautiful 
ruin that stood by my side not enough to arouse these gloomy 
forebodings ? 

What of that bright hectic flush ? The rose may flourish on 
decay. 

“ You are indeed a little altered,” I remarked, “but time 
works changes; time, too, is the great healer. You are no 
more changed than I am, but perhaps I show it less.” 

She looked steadfastly into my eyes and murmured : 

“Yes, I am — you look well and strong, while I am only a 
wreck,” and she wept bitterly. 

I tried to soothe her. 

“But,” she continued, “I don’t care, now that you have 
come ; I can resign myself to die ; still I should like to live on. 
How strange you must think me, but I can’t help it. Don’t 
take to heart anything I say ; I feel so confused.” 

It was many minutes before we began to speak on other 
matters, and then the conversation changed to my mother. 

“ She is very anxious to see you,” said Gertrude. 

“ Where is she ?” I asked eagerly. 


2uS 


ADKIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


“ In Canada, I believe. She left word with her lawyer, Mr. 
Seymour, of William Street, when she went away, that she 
was to be telegraphed for the moment you arrived.” 

“ God bless her ! I long so much to meet her; she’s been 
the dream of my life. Oh ! how I wish she were here.” 

While we were speaking Mrs. Morgan entered the room. 

“ O Washington!” she exclaimed, greeting me in a very af- 
fectionate manner, “I’m very glad to see you back — very glad 
indeed. When did you arrive ?” 

“Thank you. This morning.” 

“We wondered what had become of you, not having heard 
from you for so long a time. I'm so delighted to see you here 
again. Well, how have you been? you’re looking very well.” 

“Very well, indeed. How are you? My stay at the Cape was 
entirely unexpected ; but ‘ all’s well that ends well.’ I thought 
of you all very much, and greatly regretted that I staid so 
long, and that I was not in Melbourne when the first letter ar- 
rived for me.” 

“You can’t imagine,” continued Mrs. Morgan, “how 
deeply sorry we were about that office business. It nearly 
killed Gertrude, and I don’t think she’ll ever get over it. 
Gertrude, my dear, don’t sob so. Only to think,” she con- 
tinued, “that that unfortunate man, Mr. Perkins, should have 
been so wicked as to make that infamous accusation against 
you. Don’t you think she’s very much changed ?” 

Alas ! I did think so, but I tried to close my eyes to it and 
only answered : “ Yes, a little.” 

The change was indeed greater than I had been prepared 
for. There was an evident loss of stamina, a wasting of the 
tissues, a sinking of the cheeks, a drooping of the eyes, and a 
violet shade around them which gave them an unnatural 
brightness and prominence. Her lips, too, once crimson, 
were now wan, and the blue veins were clearly traceable on 
her thin temples. Her teeth had become very white, and 
wore that brittle, glassy look, which in women frequently 
heralds and accompanies a decline. She had the worn ap- 
pearance of middle age, and yet she was not twenty-seven. 

But frail and pale and delicate and bloodless though she 
looked, she was everything to me; and I had the grief of 


ADRIFT "WITH A VENGEANCE. 


2G9 


knowing that I was the cause of this sad change. How gladly 
would I have given my own health and strength to restore the 
old hue of vitality and freshness to that fragile oval face 
which, once bright and glowing with animation, had now a 
fixed expression of care, sadness, regret, disappointment, re- 
signation, which made me melancholy to gaze upon ; but the 
penetrating eyes of the spirit carried me beyond those of the 
flesh, and I saw her in the past as well as in the present. I 
adored her all the more tenderly for the change that had come 
over her. 

Now the sunshine of joy beamed across those lines of sad- 
ness, and hope, long deferred, was at length realized. When 
the shock of surprise and — may I say it? — of delight which at 
first almost paralyzed her, had passed away, the old animation 
returned with something more than the old fire, the result of 
temporary excitement. 

“What a wonderful romance that is about yourself, Wash- 
ington,” said Mrs. Morgan. “Your mother called upon us, 
and will be so very glad to hear of your return. I’m sure she 
will come on by the next train after she knows of it.” 

“I think I ought to go and see her under the circumstan- 
ces,” said I, looking to Gertrude for assent. 

“ You’ll miss her on the road if you do ; for she left word 
with her lawyer to telegraph to her as soon as you came, and 
Mr. Morgan promised to let him know as soon as he heard of 
you,” she replied. 

“ Yes, the romance is wonderful; but, strange to say, you’ve 
not heard it all yet.” 

“ Indeed — what more ?” and mother and daughter looked 
at me with fresh amazement. 

“Well, simply this, that on my voyage to England, after 
that terrible affair in Wall Street, I made the acquaintance of 
a young Englishman named Wade, who invited me to dine with 
him at his club in London, and there introduced me to his un- 
cle, a Mr. Henry Duncan, who made the third of our party at 
dinner ; and who, it now appears, was no other than my fa- 
ther. I can see him now, mentally, as vividly as I did then 
physically, and his manner and appearance impressed me, I 
remember, peculiarly, but exactly how I cannot describe. I 


270 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


conversed with him on general topics, and particularly about 
the United States. He asked me what part of the country I 
came from, and I told him Boston. He looked a little hard at 
me then ; and now that I reflect, I think a faint suspicion must 
have crossed his mind at that moment, for he said, 4 1 met 
with a gentleman of your name in Boston,’ and seemed desi- 
rous of drawing me out respecting my personal history. Well, 
Mr. Wade was going, for the sake of sport, to the Cape Co- 
lony, and had taken passage by the Australian steamer touch- 
ing there. As I was bound for Melbourne he induced me to 
go by the same ship, and after that to interrupt my voyage, 
and join him in his hunting expedition, and for six months 
we led a life of perilous adventure in the African bush, camp- 
ing and shooting together. Then he came on with me to Aus- 
tralia, less than a fortnight after which I received Gertrude’s 
letter, telling me the particulars of the discovery that had been 
made; and I was acquainting Mr. Wade with the strange 
story, as a reason for my immediate return, when I found out 
that he was my own cousin — the son of my father’s sister. I 
was more astonished than ever, as you may imagine, and he 
was as much so as myself, and has come on with me to New 
York to see how it will all end.” 

“What a marvellous train of circumstances!” exclaimed 
Mrs. Morgan. “You’re the hero of as startling a romance as 
I ever read of ” 

Further conversation followed on this and other subjects, 
and then she withdrew, not, however, before saying, “Of 
course you’ll stay with us. I’ll have a room prepared for 
you immediately, and we dine at six, as you know. Mr. Mor- 
gan will be so very glad to see you, and I’ll send word to him 
now by the coachman, so that he may telegraph your mother 
from his office.” 

The invitation to stay I, of course, gladly accepted. 

I was again with the woman I loved. Happy day J 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


271 


CHAPTER LII. 

4 4 I AM HAPPY NOW.” 

I would not tell her all that I had thought since we last met, 
and how those farewell lines of hers, given me on my depar- 
ture for New York, had prostrated me under a load of grief 
and doubt and anxiety. Even with the best and truest and 
purest of women, there is uncertainty, and as much after as 
before marriage. There is a certain indecision, fickleness, or 
caprice in human nature, which is liable to show itself at any 
time ; but there are exceptions when feeling becomes definite 
and a change of feeling almost impossible. 

Gertrude was a sincere, honest, generous, warm-hearted 
girl ; frank, susceptible, and afflicted with far less avarice and 
ambition than most of her sex. Indeed she had thrown both 
the last entirely aside on my account — a sufficient proof of her 
disinterestedness and purity of motive. But, after all, might 
not even she change ? Heaven pardon, me the suspicion : but 
can a man be so blind as to live in this purgatory of a world, 
and mingle with the dross of mankind, without knowing full 
well that base and selfish motives too often govern it, and that, 
in the great majority of cases, nearly every thing is sacrificed 
to what is falsely believed to be interest, but which too often 
turns out in the end to be moral suicide, carrying with it a 
train of horrors haunting to the tomb ? Not, however, that 
there was aught savoring of the selfish or the uncharitable in 
her nature — far from it ; although I should have loved her all 
the same if she had committed murder, or married another 
man for his money before my return — such was the intensity 
and ineradicable nature of my love for her. I should have been 
very sad, of course, if she had done so. In the last event, I 
might have called for “a pistol and flat candlestick,” and 
quietly or noisily, as it happened, blown my brains out; but, 
upon consideration, suicide always appeared to me to be a 
paltry kind of refuge for a disappointed man, and I should have 
felt too much regard for the feelings of my friends and the 


272 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


chambermaid, to undertake the operation. Therefore, al- 
though a possibility of such a catastrophe might have ex- 
isted, its probability would have been very remote. 

But why should I reflect upon possibilities and the past ? 
My, best and brightest hopes had been realized. All that I 
yearned and longed and prayed for had been granted me, for 
the woman I adored was mine. 

Ah ! the delight, the consolation, the divine influence of re- 
quited love ! To love and to be loved in return, is the acme 
of felicity, a heavenly joy, making the earth glorious and ex- 
istence sweet, just as to love and not to be loved is the bitter- 
est disappointment that oan rend the human heart, bringing 
woe, desolation, often despair. And what death in life is there 
like to it ? 

Love ! what a potent spell it exerts now and again over poor 
humanity. Before it everything fades into insignificance, and 
a blind idolatry usurps the place of reason. Sublime, gener- 
ous, ennobling passion ! But, after all it is only the few who 
are really capable of loving. The majority of men and women 
have no capacity for feeling any thing acutely — no strong feel- 
ings, and those they do possess may be acted upon by any one 
of a considerable number of persons. They have,to.o, a happy 
facility of transferring their regard, and are by no means heart- 
broken when a contre temps occurs. It is very different, how- 
ever, with people endowed with more than ordinary sensibility 
and depth of feeling. To them an attachment once formed is of 
vital importance, and blighted love is little short of annihila- 
tion. 

But it seems to me that I am sermonizing — a grave sin. 

“ Gertrude, my dear,” I said, tenderly embracing her, “you 
can hardly imagine how much I have suffered since we parted ; 
and what a sorrowful parting that was ! I know that Byron 
says — 

“ Man’s love is of man’s life a thing apart, 

- ’T is woman’s whole existence 

but, oh ! it seemed as if it was to me all that the poet ascribed 
to woman. To speak of myself as love-sick is to use a tame 
conventional phrase. I was heart-broken and prostrated with 
disappointment, and when I read those ‘farewell’ lines you 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


273 


gave me in the sealed package, my cup of agony was filled to 
overflowing ; and if it had not been for a ray of hope shining 
through the terrible gloom and despondency I could hardly 
have borne my misery. Oh ! what days of silent anguish fol- 
lowed, and how my heart sank within me when I waited, day 
after day, for a fortnight, in Liverpool, and still no letter came. 
I was wretched and anxious in the extreme. I told you how I 
consulted the spiritual * medium,’ and what he said about your 
sickness. How wonderfully true all that was !” 

“Yes, indeed,” she said, sadly, and I continued. 

“ I commenced my voyage towards Australia with a very^ 
heavy heart, and I only yielded to Mr. Wade’s solicitation for 
me to remain at the Cape, because I thought I should still 
get to Melbourne before any letter could reach there — not an- 
ticipating such a long stay. But I worshipped you as much, 
day after day, in those African wilds as I ever did and ever shall 
do. I nearly fainted with joy and emotion when I read your first 
letters to me on the day I landed in Australia. How welcome 
they were — oh ! how dearly I prized them — how fervently I 
kissed them, I cannot tell you. But how sad they made me 
feel after all ! I reproached myself bitterly for delaying on the 
way, and cried over them in joy and sorrow alternately. They 
carried comfort to my wearied, anxious spirit, gave ipe new 
life, and kindled hope anew. How grateful and delighted I 
was! And now, 0 Gertrude ! my love, my idol, the yearning 
desire of those long, long months of absence, which made the 
heart, if possible, grow fonder, is satisfied, and I am with you 
once again, a happy man. At least, whatever there is want- 
ing to complete that happiness, I know you won’t refuse.” 
And I raised her hand to my lips, and we both smiled as our 
eyes met in a long and loving gaze. 

Then she pillowed her face on my breast, and murmured 
fondly: “Dearest ! I am happy now. Oh ! so happy.” 

What could I do but stoop and kiss her ? 

* * * * ****** 

The street door opened. 

“ That’s papa,” said Gertrude ; “he’ll be so glad to find you 
here,” and she went into the hall to meet him. 

“ Papa, dear, Washington has come,” she exclaimed, in a 
S 


m 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


tone of exultation ; and the next moment Mr. Morgan entered 
the room and shook me warmly by the hand. 

“I’m glad to see you back, Washington, very. You must 
imake yourself quite at home. When did you arrive? Great 
doings about you since you left. You haven’t seen your 
’mother yet, but I’ve telegraphed for her. How have you been ? 
You’re looking well. Bad business that about Perkins — great 
scoundrel — deceived me completely — very sorry for it — had 
implicit confidence in him. But he’s dead now, and I’ll do my 
best to mend matters. You’ll forgive me, I know ; won’t 
you? It wasn’t my fault. ” 

“ Certainly, sir ; and I’m grateful to you for all you’ve done 
for me.” 

The old gentleman seemed quite moved with emotion ; and 
there was no doubt about the sincerity of his welcome and 
good wishes. 

It was a novel sensation this meeting, on more than the old 
terms of friendship, with the father of Gertrude. There was a 
touching display of warmth and tenderness in his manner, 
which made me regret that I had ever considered him a harsh 
judge or severe arbitrator. I saw that he was willing to do all 
that he could in the future to recompense me for the injury I 
had suffered in the past. 

He shook me by both hands, and then laid his right hand on 
my shoulder, and made an effort to say more than he did, for 
he only uttered : “I am glad to see you, my boy, very glad. 
Consider this your home as long as you like to make it so.” 

With a natural curiosity, I was eager to learn all I could 
about my mother ; and although Reginald Wade had described 
her to me over and over again, I was just as anxious to hear 
more of her from other lips. So my inquiries were numerous 
and earnest. 

Mrs. Morgan again joined us. 

“Mamma,” said Gertrude, “Washington and I have been 
comparing notes. We’ve been drawing pictures of his mother ; 
he from what his cousin, Mr. Wade, told him, and I from 
memory. Don’t you think her very handsome ?” 

“ I’m sure she has been. She's exceedingly prepossessing, 
and the most lady-like person I think I ever saw. You’ll love 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


275 


each other very much, I know,” she continued, turning to*me. 

“She has such beautiful black eyes and hair, and such a 
sweet expression of mouth,” said Gertrude, “I’m sure she’s 
very amiable and warm hearted.” 

“Well, from all that I can understand,” said I, after a little 
more conversation on the subject, “she’s a little over the 
medium height, well made, but inclining to embonpoint : 
nearly a brunette, of entertaining manners, with very good 
taste in dress, and the son shows a family resemblance.” 

“Yes; oh! she's very charming indeed,” said Gertrude; 
“I wish you could see her. Father has sent word that you 
are here to Mr. Seymour, her lawyer, and, having telegraphed 
her besides, she’ll know very soon.” 

“ Then,” said I, “ I’ll be guided by the reply as to whether 
I go on to meet her or await her here.” 

After dinner the lawyer called to sec me, and expressed his 
congratulations on my return, and told me he also had tele- 
graphed to my mother. He at the same time made an ap- 
pointment with me for the following morning at his office, and 
concluded by saying, “I’ll probably have an answer to my 
message by that time and be able to post you. ” 

For the first time since the difficulty in Wall Street, I went 
to sleep a happy man at the house in Union Square. 

I did not see Eeginald Wade till the next morning. Then I 
called upon him at his hotel— the Metropolitan — and found him 
in his own room, deep in the mysteries of “vellow-covered 
literature.” Seated in an easy-chair, with one book in his 
hand and another on the table at his side, he appeared to be 
enjoying the novelty of a strange dish. 

“ Well, a pretty fellow you are,” said he, rising to welcome 
me, “not to come and see me before this time. How have 
you been?” 

I explained. 

“ Lucky fellow,” he replied, “ I congratulate you.” 

“Just see what I’ve got here,” and he turned the cover of 
the book in his hand towards me. Thereon I read the prodi- 
gious title, “ The Nail with the Bloody Head, or The Ter- 
rors of a Night,” by Methusaleh, author of the “Mangled 
Baby or The Washerwoman s Bevenge,” “The Girl in Yel- 


276 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


low,” “ The Man in Blue,” “ The Boy in Green,” etc. “And 
here,” lifting the other volume, “The Dead Loafer, or The 
Great Broadway Mystery,” by Jupiter, author of “ The Stran- 
gled Victim, or Love and Murder,” “ The Green-Eyed Monster, 
or the Fatal Struggle,” “The Bed Spot, or the Miscreant's 
Doom,” etc. 

“ Alas ! my country !” was my exclamation. 

“ I want to introduce you at my friend’s house, if you’ve no 
objection,” said I, a few minutes later ; the family having in- 
vited me to do so. 

“Not the slightest — I shall be very happy.” 

“ Well, I will call for you at eight.” 

And after further conversation, I left him to the delights of 
sensational “literature,” and took my way down-town, to keep 
my appointment with Mr. Seymour, the lawyer. 

“Good morning. How d’ye do? very glad to see you,” 
said he; “ I’ve just this instant received a message by tele- 
graph from your mother, and she left Toronto by the ten 
o'clock train this morning for New- York. She’ll be here to- 
night.” 

I was overjoyed. 

My Mother ! how ardently I longed to meet her ! Ah ! yes, 
and with what unutterable fondness. 

I wanted to meet her at the railway station, but Mr. Seymour 
said it would be better for me not to do so under the circum- 
stances, and that he and Mr. Morgan had arranged to be in at- 
tendance at the Hudson Biver depot when the train arrived. 

That night, at half-past nine, a carriage drove up to the 
house in Union Square ; the bell rang, and a minute after- 
wards I beheld — 


CHAPTEB LIIL 

AT LAST. 

My Mother ! 111!! 

1 1 111 !! 

I 1 111!! 

1 ! 1 1 1 1 


1 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


277 


CHAPTEE LIV. 

THE LONG EXPECTED MEETING. 

At one bound we sprang into each other’s arms. 

44 My child — my child !” she exclaimed, kissing me passion- 
ately, and then burst into tears. 

4 4 My mother — my dear mother!” I replied, returning the 
fond embrace. Then she suddenly released me, and looked 
me full in the face with wild, admiring eyes. 

44 God bless you, my darling boy V\ and we embraced again. 
It was more like the meeting of lovers after a long separation 
than of mother and son. 

My heart beat very fast, and my excited brain pictured the 
past with wonderful distinctness. A panorama of my life 
seemed to present itself at a single glance, and imagination 
supplied all that memory failed to furnish. 

44 For this, my dear mother,” I said, 44 I have prayed from 
childhood, and I always believed the day would come when I 
should find you. A monitor within me told of a something 
time would divulge, and encouraged me to look hopefully into 
the future. Thank heaven, my prayers have been answered, 
and my great wish is realized. How very glad I am ! ” 

My mother's eyes were fixed intently upon me. They 
seemed to devour me. Her woman’s nature moved her to 
survey with sensations of pride, joy, anxiety, and maternal 
love, amounting to ecstacy, her only son, who had been lost to 
her from early infancy, whom she had never seen since, when 
pink in babyhood, he lay cradled by her side. 

And what a long, dark, mysterious gulf lay between ! 

We had met in the hall, but now we both entered the par- 
lor. Mr. Morgan and Gertrude were standing near the door, 
and extended a warm greeting to the new-comer ; and then 
Reginald Wade advanced, saying: 44 I think were old friends.” 
My mother gave a sudden start, and grasped his hand with 
8,mazement pictured in her looks. 

44 Why Eeginald, this is a surprise!” she exclaimed, 44 1 


278 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


thought you were still in Africa. How very glad I am to see 
you ! What a mystery all this seems ! Where have you come 
from — did you come with him ?” and she cast a glance towards 
me. 

“You surmise correctly — I did come with him, and entirely 
on his and your own account. We are old friends and com- 
panions, you must know. He was my fellow-huntsman in the 
bush, whom I mentioned in my letter to you. Don’t you re- 
member — Mr. Edmond’s?” 

“Oh! yes; then he was my own dear boy. How little I 
thought it.” 

“ The very same; you ought to be proud of him.” 

“ I am, indeed. How wonderful it all is ! You’re about the 
last person in the world I should have expected to meet here 
to-night.” 

The conversation soon became general upon the one topic, 
in which I was the central figure, but I could see that my 
mother was anxious to be alone with me, and after a stay of 
less than an hour, during which the carriage had remained in 
waiting, she rose to depart, notwithstanding a pressing invi- 
tation from Mrs. Morgan to make her home where she was. 

She had already left her baggage and her maid at the Clar- 
endon, whither I accompanied her. 

There in her quiet parlor, free from the intrusive gaze of 
others, she poured out a flood of feeling, and embraced me 
like a child ; and told me the history of her life — her marriage, 
her bereavement, her desolation, her unhappiness, her suspi- 
cions, her separation from her husband, her discovery of his 
duplicity, her anxious search for me, and the joyful reward 
that had at length crowned her efforts, and secured the triumph 
of Right over Wrong. 

And I, too, told her of the web of mystery I had ever been 
striving to unravel — of the vague yearning I felt after my 
mother, and the belief I entertained that she still lived, and 
that I was the victim of a wrong which I sanguinely hoped 
time would remedy — of the long years of speculation, and 
brooding, and wretchedness I had passed, and how aJl had 
come right in the end ! 

How she wept over the “plain unvarnished tale” of my 


ADEIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


279 


youthful sufferings ; the long-continued cruelties of Mrs. 
Bangs ; the rude hardships of a boy’s life at sea ; the bitter 
experiences of Liverpool ; the thrilling story of the wreck on 
the Newfoundland coast ; the false accusation of the cashier at 
the bank in Wall Street ; the terrible consequences which that 
entailed upon me ; my subsequent sorrows and perilous adven- 
tures ; my eventual justification by the thief of my reputation ; 
and, finally, the discovery of the priceless object for which I 
had prayed so long. 

She clasped me to her heart with all a mother’s love and 
the wild fervor of a new-found joy, and the broad belt of time 
between the day when she had lost me and now, which ere 
this had been marked only with desolation, bloomed like a 
garden before her vision. The rosy flush of pride and tran- 
sport mantled her face, and her eyes glowed with the fire of a 
feeling which till now had never burned so brightly. 

“ Where was my father when you last heard of him ?” I in- 
quired. 

“In England. He’d just arrived to see his grandfather, 
Lord Huntingdon, who is lying dangerously ill at Huntingdon 
Park, Gloucester. 1 only received the letter telling me this 
two days ago. He’s a very old man, and Bishop Duncan being 
his only surviving son, your father will be heir presumptive to 
the title after his death. So, you see, you have a chance of 
becoming an Earl before you die.” 

I did see it, but having no desire whatever to inherit a coro- 
net, I treated the subject with indifference. 

“ My dear Mother,” said I, “how came you to find out the 
deception my father had practised upon you in the first in- 
stance.” 

“Quite by accident,” she replied, “Your father happened 
to leave a travelling desk in which he kept some of his private 
papers unlocked one day, and curiosity tempted me to look over 
them. There I found a memorandum book giving the whole his- 
tory of the case in a few lines, with the dates, circumstances, and 
names. Much as the discovery surprised me, I saw through 
it all at a glance. My child had not died, but been taken from 
me so that I might be childless, and that your father might in- 
herit the whole of my property. I was, of course, furious, but 


280 


ADEIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


had presence of mind enough to take a copy the entries in 
the book, which were all on the first two pages. This copy I 
put away, and when your father came home to dinner, I held 
up that book before his eyes, and charged him with what he 
had done. He appeared thunderstruck, and sat down in a 
chair without uttering a word, while drops of perspiration 
gathered on his brow. When he spoke it was in a hoarse voice. 
‘Harriett,’ said he, ‘You have no business to look over my 
private papers and draw your own conclusions from them.’ 
‘ Is not every word you have here written, true ?’ I asked. 
‘I decline answering any questions from you on the sub- 
ject,’ he replied, angrily, and then suddenly rising, said, 
‘Here, give me that book,’ and, after a struggle, he wrested 
it from me.* 

‘“I leave this house to-night, sir, for ever,’ I said, and I im- 
mediately dressed and packed a few things, and, ordering a cab, 
drove with my maid to my Uncle Edward’s, in Bryanston 
Square, where I remained until we sailed for Boston. The en- 
tries I had copied from the book served to guide me in making 
the investigations I did after my arrival, and the result, my 
dear, darling boy, I see before me.” 

“Do you know,” I said, “that since I received those few 
lines from you at Melbourne, I have been all the time trying 
to picture you in my mind from the descriptions given me by 
Reginald Wade, and, since I returned, from those of Mrs. Mor- 
gan and Gertrude ! but I must say that all my imaginings have 
been completely eclipsed by the original. So far as leading 
physical characteristics are concerned, I was pretty correct, 
but in the filling up of the outlines, I was deficient. It is true, 
as I was told, that you are a little over the medium height, well 
made, but inclining to embonpoint , and nearly a brunette, and 
that your son is not the most unlike you of any one in he 
world — but there is something about you so far beyond what 
mere words can describe, that I am perfectly enchanted at 
such a bright realization of my hopes.” 

“Well, I’m sure I’ve found a very complimentary young 
man in my son. What next ?” and she laughed. “ Well, when 
will you be ready to go with me to England?” 

“Not till after my marriage, I think.” 


ADKIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


281 


41 Marriage ! With whom ?” 

44 Gertrude Morgan.” 

“Surely not. She looks at least ten years older than you, 
and very delicate.” 

“ What of that ? It is true she is about four years my elder, 
but her looks were fresh and healthful before that accusation 
was made against me at the bank. We were engaged to be 
married then, and I am prepared to marry her now, and I 
would marry her on her death-bed. All the sacrifice has been 
on her side. I was a poor ship’s cabin-boy, who merely did 
his best to comfort and rescue her in a trying and terrible 
period. My claim upon her, even for gratitude, was very 
slight, and yet she paved my way to worldly fortune, and then 
gave me her hand and heart, and would have married me as 
willingly after I had been branded as a thief as before, or as 
she would now, when I stand before the world righteous, vin- 
dicated, and triumphant. No, my marriage with Gertrude 
Morgan is not impossible ; it is inevitable. I never loved any 
other woman, and she is indispensable to my happiness. ” 

“ I’m surprised at what you say. I was not aware you were 
still engaged, although I heard you had been ; that alters the 
case entirely, of course. But I think her state of health war- 
rants a postponement of the marriage. 

“Upon that point,” I said, “my mind is made up. I will 
have no further postponement than she may suggest.” 

“I admire your spirit and constancy; but I think your 
choice may prove unfortunate.” 

“ It can only prove unfortunate in the event of her early death, 
and if she is to die, I would rather deplore her as my wife than 
my betrothed. Moreover, marriage I know will prolong her 
life. She has simply pined away, and the true way to alleviate 
disease is to remove its cause.” 

It was late that night — very late before I returned to the 
house in Union Square. But the light was still burning in the 
hall, and one of the servants remained on the alert for me, 
and as I passed up stairs, Gertrude came out of her room and 
kissed me good-night. 


282 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


CHAPTER LY. 

ANOTHER SCENE IN WALL STREET. 

“You must come down and see your old fiiends at the 
office,” said Mr. Morgan. “ They’ll all be very glad to meet 
you.” 

1 cheerfully accepted the invitation, and the next morning 
walked down with him to his banking house in Wall Street — - 
that thoroughfare so busy by day and so deserted by night, 
which I had known so well in the days that were no more. 

The old brass sign at the doorway, bearing the inscription, 
“Edward Morgan and Co.” was still at number 45, and the 
building seemed to have undergone no change since the day I 
left it, as I supposed, for ever. 

Mr. Morgan was a banker of the old school, who did a 
strictly legitimate business as distinguished from a speculative 
one, and he assured me that he never took “a flyer in 
stocks” in his life, and that by their copartnership articles his 
firm could not speculate to the extent of a dollar. He was not 
a broker, and took no orders from speculators to buy or sell 
stocks on a margin, although he never refused to buy on com- 
mission for his customers, who wanted to pay for what they 
bought outright, nor to sell when they actually held the secu- 
rities they sold, but he would never sell “ short” for anybody. 
It was not in his line of business, he would say, and those who 
dealt with Edward Morgan and Co. as bankers had to go else- 
where to find their brokers. 

Mr. Morgan’s partner, Mr. Fipps, who was now an invalid, 
and seldom at the office, was equally averse to carrying stocks 
or doing .a speculative business of any kind, so the house had 
the reputation of being one of the strongest and most conser- 
vative in the Street. 

Country banks and bankers had confidence in the house, 
and hundreds of them kept accounts there, and people seldom 
t )ok the precaution of getting its checks certified. It always 
had a large amount of money loaned on stock collaterals, but 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


283 


it invariably exacted wide margins, and insisted on the bor- 
rowers keeping them good, failing which the loans were 
promptly called in, and borrowers of doubtful credit were re- 
fused when they applied for fresh loans. 

Hence it" went on its way prospering. Panics in the stock 
market never involved it in losses any more than a rise 
brought it profits, although a sharp calling in of loans gene- 
rally heralded a heavy fall in the stock market. 

Mr. Morgan paused for an instant at the threshold of his 
office and remarked — 

“Now that you are about to enter this office again, Wash- 
ington, let me tell you that you can do so as a partner if you 
like.” 

“Thank you. I’m very much obliged to you,” and I followed 
him into his private office. 

All who had known me recognized me at a glance as I 
passed through, and there was the silence broken by whispers 
which the newspapers describe (in a parenthesis) as sensation. 

Mr. Johnson, the same with whom I had boarded during 
my clerkship, was the first to come forward. He had succeeded 
Mr. Perkins as cashier. 

“Why, Washington,” he exclaimed, “how are you? I’m 
very glad to see you, and so are all the old hands here I’m 
sure — very. I heard you were back, and we were all anxious 
to see you. Mrs. Johnson wished me to give her kind re- 
gards to you, and say that she would be pleased to see you at 
the house if you’d like to call.” 

“Thank you, thank you,” I replied, “I shall be most 
happy,” and then my other 'ellow clerks of former days 
gathered round and congratulated me warmly on my safe re- 
turn and improved appearance — for travelling and the open 
air life I had led had put more vitality into my frame than I 
had ever known before, and my muscular system had been 
largely developed by exercise, so that I really presented an 
unusually robust and athletic appearance. 

“Mr. Johnson,” said Mr. Morgan, in a voice which was evi- 
dently intended to reach the ears of all the clerks in the office, 
“I think it proper after all that has occurred to say that 
Washington returns to this office entirely exculpated from the 


284 


ADEIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


false and damnable charge made against him by Mr. Perkins— 
the only redeeming feature in whose character lay in his death- 
bed confession, — and I have here before you all to tender him 
my very humble apologies for having ever believed the false 
accusation, and to inform you that I have such perfect confi- 
dence in his integrity that I have offered him a partnership in 
this house, and, further, gladly consented to his marriage with 
my only daughter.” 

The sensation produced by this short speech was very great, 
but it would have been still greater had not my engagement 
with Gertrude while in the bank been generally understood. 
The proposed partnership was, however, a surprise to them, 
but they appeared to approve of it, for immediately one of the 
boldest of the employees shouted, “ Hip, hip !” following which 
he and all the others cried “ Hurrah !” three times, to the evi- 
dent delight of Mr. Morgan, who displayed an enthusiasm, 
which, in his case, I had never witnessed before. 

“Of course, Washington,” remarked Mr. Morgan, after Mr. 
Johnson and the clerks had retired to their respective desks, 
“in offering you a partnership here I don’t want to hamper 
your own free will in any way. You’ll have to go to England 
with your mother to settle this family matter of yours, and you 
won’t be able to attend to business while you’re away, but I wish 
you to understand that you can have a partnership in this 
house whenever you’re prepared for it, and in the meantime 
I’ll give you a check for ten thousand dollars to pay the ex- 
penses of your wedding trip to Europe.” 

“ Oh, you are too good !” I exclaimed. 

“Not a bit,” was Mr. Morgan’s reply, as he wrote the check, 
and as he handed it to me he said, ‘ ‘ Treat her well, that is all 
I ask, and that I know you will do.” Then our hands were 
clasped in silence, while tears welled up into my eyes. 


ADMIT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


285 


CHAPTER LVI. 

I VISIT THE HUB OF THE UNIVEESE. 

On the following evening our wedding-day was fixed. Wed- 
nesday, the fourth of October would see us married. Three 
weeks and a few hours had yet to elapse before I could call 
Gertrude my own. 

Meanwhile we all went together to West-Point, for New 
York was empty of its butterflies of fashion, who were still 
frittering away their lives in Newport, Saratoga, and else- 
where, and the streets were monotonously dull and the wea- 
ther hot ; and there at Cozzens’ we caught pleasant glimpses 
of the beautiful Hudson, and happy faces beamed around us, 
and night after night 

“ Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, 

And all went merry as a marriage bell.” 

“Lucky fellow — I congratulate you,” were the words of 
Reginald Wade, still fresh in my mamory ; and I felt that I 
really was a lucky fellow, and that I really might be congratu- 
lated. With my mother and my betrothed by my side, I felt 
that I was the happiest man living, so great was the contrast 
between former misery and present felicity. 

Sweet is the memory of departed joys — a platitude I admit — 
but heaven save us if we cannot recall the glowing past in lan- 
guage endeared to us by familiarity. I am no respecter of the 
canons of criticism or conventional rules ; I am opposed to 
barren uniformity in any thing and every thing, and I think 
the mere example of eccentricity — another name for non-con- 
formity — advantageous in an age like the present, when the 
tendency is to suppress individuality, and convert men into 
machines. I like to think as I like, and to say what I think, 
whether I think rightly or wrongly, and whosoever is disposed to 
contest my moral right to do so is retrogressive, and opposed 
to the advancement of civilization and the dissemination of 
truth. I am one of those who have no dread of the tyranny of 


286 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


opinion, more potent than law though it may be ; for unless 
'we live in an atmosphere of perfect social freedom, it is my 
belief that existence is not worth having, and I would 
sooner be a hippopotamus or a catfish than a hu- 
man being, if I had to bow to the yoke of social despotism, 
virtuous and immaculate as I am. My individuality .must as- 
sert itself, or I must perish with it. 

I looked forward to my marriage-day with unspeakable de- 
light, and every morning I awoke to a new sense of joy, just 
as before, the dawn of the days had only brought me renewed 
misery. And how much we feel our woe or weal when we 
emerge f rom the oblivion of slumber into the consciousness of 
reality ! How we sicken with thoughts of pain while the bit- 
ter cup of disappointment and regret is again quaffed ! or how 
we are moved with pride, pleasure, and ecstasy, as the case 
may be ! If I am oppressed with a great grief, spare me the 
moment of awaking; but if I have a great joy, then welcome, 
welcome the light of each new day ! 

I had been looking forward to a visit to the scenes of my 
childhood since my arrival, and the time had now come for it, 
if I was ever to make it. 

Gertrude reluctantly consented to my going for two or three 
days, and my mother, at her own request, accompanied me to 
Boston, where, at the Tremont House, I registered our names 
thus : Mrs. Harriet Duncan , Mr. Washington Edmonds Dun- 
can. 

“ I’m sorry they gave you that name Washington ,” re- 
marked my mother, when I told her how I had written it. “ It 
sounds so dreadfully American.” 

“ The name I intended to give you was your father’s — Henry, 
but you hadn’t been baptized when you were taken away from 
me, and Mrs. Wilkins told me that she never had you christen- 
ed, so you’ve never been baptized — only think of that, my 
dear.” 

“ Well,” said I, “as I’ve borne the name of Washington 
Edmonds all my life, the best compromise I can now make is 
to call myself Washington Edmonds Duncan, which to please 
you I shall sign W. E. Duncan. You must remember, mother, 
I’m an American, and am proud of both the name and fame of 
Washington.” 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


287 


“I don’t tliink so at all,” she remarked, “your parents are 
English, and the circumstance of your being born in this coun- 
try was an accident. The simile is not elegant, I know, but if 
you were born in a stable, would that make you a horse ?” 

“Your reasoning, my dear mother, ,s I replied, “is based on 
an exploded theory. We are all creatures of accident. But it 
is sufficient for me to know that I am an American born. I’ve 
had some very hard times here, it is true, but my flag is the 
star spangled banner. I belong to ‘ the land of the brave and 
the home of the free.’ I’m, in fact, ‘a Boston Boy,’ deny it 
who can. Don’t imagine for a moment, however, that I've 
any prejudice against England. I like the country and the 
people very much indeed. It is my Fatherland, and I respect 
it as such. I shall be just as happy in England as I should be 
here, if not happier, and I have little doubt that I shall say 
with you, after I have had more experience of the old country, 
‘England, with all thy faults, I love thee still.’ ” 

“ Yes, my darling, I know you will. As your mother’s son 
you could not do otherwise. ” 

Leaving my mother at the hotel on the morning after our 
arrival at the “ Hub,” I went alone to the office of Mr. John 
Fowler, the lawyer who had advertised for me, to announce 
myself as the missing individual. 

“ Is Mr. Fowler within ?” I asked of a gentleman with iron- 
gray hair, closely trimmed whiskers, and sallow complexion 
whom I saw seated at a desk, smoking a cigar, in the room on 
whose door that gentleman’s sign was displayed. 

“ That is my name, sir,” he replied coldly, “ what can I do 
for you ?” 

“ You have advertised for Washington Edmonds, I see, and, 
as I am the person referred to, you can account for my visit.” 

“ Is that so, my good sir, you surprise me. When did you 
get here ?” 

“ I arrived this morning.” 

“ Well, sir, there has been quite a sensation about you, and 
a more extraordinar- ‘omance I never heard of than the cir- 
cumstances surrounding your history from your birth up. But 
the matter, I may say, has passed out of my hands. Mr. Mor 
gan, of New York, wrote me a letter, telling me that you were 


288 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


living, and had gone to Australia, and that he would commu- 
nicate with you. Since then, your mother and her uncle, Mr. 
Edward Beresford, have seen Mr. Morgan and his family, and 
ascertained a great deal about you, and letters were sent to 
you at Melbourne by them, I believe, giving all the leading 
facts in the case. Did you receive them ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Have you been to New York yet ?” 

“ Yes ; I arrived nearly a fortnight ago.” 

“ And have met your mother?” he queried. 

“ Yes. She came on to Boston with me.” 

“ Oh ! indeed. Then, sir, you know as much as I do, and 
a little more, probably. We have taken all the testimony that 
there is to be had in the case, and your mother has the neces- 
sary affidavits to prove your identity. How do you feel after 
it all ? — glad, I hope.” 

“ Yes. Delighted, as you may well imagine.” 

‘ 1 Well, sir, if I can be of any assistance to you here call 
upon me” — following which we shook hands warmly and 
parted. 

From the lawyer’s office I walked rapidly through an 
intricate network of narrow and winding streets, yclept cow- 
paths, in the direction of the Medical College, till I reached 
Washington Street — a thoroughfare which, when a small boy, 
I had vainly supposed to have been called after me. My natural 
cariosity made me anxious to see the building and its inmates 
once more, although my associ i is connected with it were 
of the most disagreeable character ; but I thought that time 
might have tempered the habitual fury of Mrs. Bangs, and 
that the religion of which she once spoke so much might at 
length have exerted a divine influence upon her crabbed na- 
ture. At any rate,” I said to myself, “ if my calling does no 
good, it can do no harm, and I shall be glad to change my 
opinion of the old lady for the better. Moreover, as I am go- 
ing to see Kate Wilkins in the afternoon, it will be something 
to tell her about. I most certainly ought not to leave Boston 
without seeing Mr. and Mrs. Bangs, whatever my feelings to- 
wards lie r may be.” 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


289 


CHAPTER LVII. 

A TRAGEDY IN THE STONE BUILDING. 

At length I reached the door of the gloomy stone building, 
known as the Medical College, and rang the bell. 

It was opened by Mr. Bangs — a prematurely old man, gray 
and bent and careworn, with deep lines furrowing his pale and 
anxious countenance, but still the same Mr. Bangs with whom 
my boyhood had been so intimately associated. He gazed 
at me with a vacant look of wonder, bordering on stupor, and 
then exclaimed in a hollow voice, as I stood silent before him, 
while he still held the knob of the open door, 

“ Why, Washington, that’s you.” 

“You’re right,” I replied, “I’m back again at last like a 
piece of bad money, but better late than never. How have 
you been all this time ?” 

“How have I been ?” he replied sadly, “ very poorly, very 
poorly, indeed.” 

“Not well — eh? I’m sorry to hear that. How’s your 
mother ? Is she living ?” 

“Living? Yes. Did you think she was dead ?” he asked 
mournfully, and he eyed me with the same vacant stare and 
sorrowful visage that first confronted me. 

“ I have to keep very quiet,” he continued, “because I’m 
afraid of softening of the brain. The members have given 
me an assistant in the library, so I’ve not much to do now. 
Oh! Washington, the ghost of Mr. Flint has haunted me ever 
since you went away. He comes to me by night. I see him 
by day. I see the potash and the boiler and the dead body 
always before me. I cannot get away from them. They are 
chained to me. Oh! Washington, what made me do as I 
did? I’ve been expecting the police, but they haven’t come 
yet. I’d have made a public confession of my crime only for 
the fear of losing my situation, but I don’t know how much 
longer I shall be able to bear it. Oh, Washington, its terri- 
ble! Don’t you see how old I’ve grown — how gray — how 


290 


ADKIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


broken down — how utterly God-forsaken and almost helpless. 
Washington, it’s remorse — remorse. Oh, the pangs of con- 
science, how hard they are to bear — well may it be said that 
conscience makes cowards of us all. You won’t say anything, 
will you? Don’t, I pray, or I’m undone. There will be 
nothing for me after that but the poorhouse. Somebody has 
been enquiring for you, do you know it ?” 

I answered in the affirmative. 

“ They came here” he continued — “a lady, who said she 
was your mother, among them — and asked me and my mother 
to tell them everything we knew about you, but I 
told them we didn’t know what had become of you — 
whether you’d run away or been drowned or what. They were 
all just as excited as they could be, and I guess I shall never 
see folks take on so again about any one.” 

“Your mother” — said I — “I’d like to see her.” 

“Well,” said he, “ come into the house,” and he closed the 
door, and led the way with a feeble step down the narrow pas- 
sages which connected the building with the librarian’s resi- 
dence. 

Mrs. Bangs, hearing the sound of footsteps, came to the 
kitchen door as I approached, and looking more withered 
than ever, fixed her stony eyes upon me in the most unsympa- 
thetic manner imaginable. She showed surpr'se, but it was 
coupled with aversion. She seemed to be mentally saying to 
herself, “ Why, here is that wretch, Washington, back 
again.” 

“ Well, Washington, what do you want ?” she asked, with- 
out extending her hand or showing any sign of welcome, 
“ we’ve had trouble enough with you, and hope you don’t 
mean to give us any more.” 

“ No, Mrs. Bangs,” I replied, firmly, “ I’ve no wish to give 
you any more trouble, no wish even to see you again, for all 
my recollectioi^r'bf you are calculated to make me feel bitterly 
towards you. You were always cruel, hateful, inhuman to me, 
but curiosity impelled me to call. Let me assure you I have 
no desire to inform against Mr. Bangs or yourself, for murder- 
ing Mr. Flint. I would not consign even you to the gallows, 
or yet to a penitentiary, 1 forgive you all the wrongs you in- 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


291 


flicted upon me when I was a helpless boy — a child, I may say, 
entirely at your mercy — but I can never forget. ” 

“Oh, mother, mother,” cried Mr. Bangs, frantically, “why 
did you speak so to Washington, now that he’s come back. 
Don’t you know that my bread, my liberty, I may say, my life 
are in his hands ?” Then turning to me, he said, with tears in 
his eyes, “ Oh, Washington, don’t mind her — don’t mind her. 
You know what she is. She was always so.” 

“ Robert,” she cried angrily, with her voice pitched almost 
into a scream, and with her withered face flushing with excite- 
ment, “ how dare you speak in that way of me, your mother ? 
What do you mean by bringing that fiend again into the house 
to breed disturbance ?” 

It was the old story. Age had not softened the vixen in this 
woman’s nature. She was as much a virago as of yore, and I 
regretted having sought an interview with her. 

I was turning to leave when up ran from the direction of 
the building a small dog that Mr. Bangs had given to him 
about a couple of years before I left this hospitable roof. 

He knew me at a glance, and jumped and capered about and 
licked my hands with a genuine affection. Never had I seen 
a dog welcome his master back after a long absence, so gladly 
before. Poor old “Ned!” he seemed overwhelmed with de- 
light, and he did not cease his caresses even when Mrs. Bangs 
cried out, fiercely, “Ned — lie down — lie down, sir.” No, Ned, 
for once, was not to be put down in that way, and he uttered 
plaintive little whining cries, as he looked up to me, at having 
his happiness thus interrupted. “ Will you give me, or sell 
me this dog,” I asked, addressing Mr. Bangs. 

“No, Sir, you shan't take him,” exclaimed his mother, 
rushing at the faithful animal and carrying him to 
a dark closet in which she threw him. “You shan’t do any- 
thing of the sort with our dog, and I think it's very audacious 
for you to attempt such a thing as taking him away. ” 

“ Mrs. Bangs,” I said, “ I leave you with the happy reflec- 
tion that there is not another woman in Boston or the whole 
world like you. You are so pre-eminently hateful and gener- 
ally disagreeable and unjust that I should wish my worst ene- 
my no worse fate than to have to live with you. I really pity 


292 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


your son, and I bitterly regret the years of misery I suffered 
within these walls.” 

“Don’t mention Flint to anybody, will you?” said Mr. 
Bangs, earnestly and anxiously, with an imploring look, “and 
don’t mind what my mother says — you know her temper and 
her tongue.” 

This was the signal for a volley of abuse from Mrs. Bangs, 
under which her son quailed. No wonder, I reflected, that he 
was threatened with softening of the brain. 

“I should think such a fine gentleman as you are might 
pay the bill that’s due us for your board,” ejaculated the old 
woman. This was the stale taunt of long ago in a new form. 

“ How much is it ?” I asked. 

“Nearly six hundred dollars, with interest,” she replied. 

“ Give me a receipt for it and I’ll give you the money now, 
or stay, I want no receipt. ” 

I took six bank bills for a hundred dollars each out of my 
portmonnaie and threw them on the table. 

“ There,” said I, “we are quits now. Let me hear no more 
of that.” 

“How did you come by all this money, I should like to 
know ?” was Mrs. Bangs only response to this, as she counted 
the notes. 

“ That is my business,” I replied, “ and I decline listening 
to any more insulting remarks from you. If you were a man 
I should possibly knock you down, but as you are a woman 
your sex protects you.” 

Hereupon I walked towards the stone building, followed by 
Mr. Bangs, who was in terror, exclaiming: “Oh, dear! oh, 
dear!” 

A loud scream from Mrs. Bangs caused me to turn round, 
and at the same moment the body of her son fell to the floor 
with a heavy thud, his throat deeply gashed with a razor, 
which he held tightly grasped in his hand. The blood spurted 
forth with such force that I saw at a glance the jugular vein was 
cut and the windpipe severed. The man was insensible when 
he fell, and died almost instantly. 

“ The fool has gone and done it at last,” cried Mrs. Bangs, 
with more anger than regret. “ He has rushed into the pre 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


293 

sence of his Maker unprepared, and it’s all through you, Wash- 
ington — all through you. I knew you’d bring trouble, and 
here it is. Oh, my poor Bob, poor Bob, why did you do such 
a foolish thing? Oh, that wretch! that wretch!” 

While we were both stooping over the body, the dog came 
bounding out of the closet, and seeing his master bleeding on 
the ground, uttered a succession of howls, and then began to 
lick his face. 

“Leave this building at once,” commanded Mrs. Bangs, 
turning savagely upon me, “or I’ll have you arrested,” and 
glad to escape from the terrible scene, I passed into the street 
through the private door, which she shut after me with a 
bang. 


CHAPTER LVIII. 

KATE WILKINS ONCE MORE. 

From the stone building I returned to the hotel direct, and 
told my mother the dreadful story. She listened in mute 
astonishment, and then said, “My dear, what made you go to 
that horrid place? I’m very sorry, indeed, that you went. 
Why didn’t you tell me that you were going ? You know they 
were always very unkind, and even cruel, to you.” 

“ I went,” I replied, “to gratify a natural curiosity, and I 
didn’t wish to make you uneasy by saying anything on the 
subject. Moreover, when I left the hotel I hadn’t determined 
whether I should go there or not. You know I told you I was 
going to see Mr. Fowler and Kate Wilkins, and look round 
generally, and the reason why I didn’t ask you to come with 
me was that the evening before you had said you preferred my 
going alone — that you didn’t wish to be excited by fresh inter- 
views.” 

“And you say this Mrs. Bangs is a Methodist,” observed 
my mother, after she had made a few other remarks in relation 
to my visit. “I always thought the Methodists professed to be 
even better than other people.” 


204 


ADEIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


“ Pray don’t blame the Methodists, my dear mother,” I re- 
plied, “ I have a great respect for them as a religious body. 
Mrs. Bangs is the woman she is in spite of her religion, and 
not because of it. She would have been no better if she had 
been connected with any other sect. Some of the most de- 
vout Christians, and noble, upright characters I ever met 
were Wesleyans, and I wish you distinctly to understand 
that my prejudice against her — for which, as you know, I have 
good reason — does not extend to Methodism. I firmly believe 
that she would have been a still more hateful and cruel crea- 
ture than she was to me but for her church-going, and the 
foundation of her evil nature, lay in her bad, ungovernable and 
furious temper, to which everything else about her was sub- 
servient. To hold up Mrs. Bangs as a specimen Methodist, 
would be, indeed, unjust, for I don't believe that there is an- 
other Methodist like her either in the New World or the Old. I 
certainly never saw her equal, for that matter, on the face of 
the earth. The Methodists, it is true, are a good deal more 
intolerant of other religions, than they should be, but they 
have done a vast amount of good on both sides of the Atlantic in 
promoting the spiritual, and to some extent, the social welfare 
of the poorer classes, and I’m sorry that Mrs. Bangs and Me- 
thodism should be associated together.” 

I did not go that day in search of Ka f e Wilkins, the event at 
the Medical College having, to use a homely phrase, quite up- 
set me. But on the next morning, after I had read the daily 
papers, and seen therein a brief report of the “suicide, by 
cutting his throat with a razor, of the librarian of the Me- 
dical College, who had been laboring under mental depression 
for some time past,” I took a train which, in a few minutes, 
carried me within two miles of the village of Green. 

I succeeded in prevailing upon a store- keeper in the vicinity 
of the railway station to give me the use of an old rockaway, 
that I saw in an adjoining shed, to carry me to my desti- 
nation. 

“ I guess I can accommodate you,” said he. “Here Jack” 
— calling to the man outside — “harness the mare, and drive 
the gentleman over to Green. ” 

In a few minutes I was being driven over a sandy road in the 


ADEIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


295 


desired direction* I remembered nothing of the locality, but, 
as we entered the village, I caught sight of an old mill, worked 
by water power, which seemed familiar to me. 

“ What’s that ?” I asked of the driver, pointing to the 
building. 

“ That’s a woollen mill,” was the reply, and we drove on. 

“ Stop here,” said I, “ and wait till I come back. I won’t 
be long.” 

“ All right, boss, but aren’t you going to pay me before 
you go ?” 

“ Certainly, if you wish it — how much ?” 

“ Two dollars.” 

I paid him, and walked alone to a cross-road, in which I 
saw several wooden cottages. 

“ Where does Kate Wilkins live?” I asked of an old man, 
with a stoop and gray hair, whom I met walking with a stick, 
upon which he leant for support. 

“ Kate Wilkins,” he exclaimed, looking up with surprise, 
“ why, that’s my old woman. Say, are you little Wash, as 
used to live wi’ us ? I sort o’ recognize you, if you air.” 

“ Why, is it possible, Mr. Wilkins, that you recognize me 
after all these years ?” 

“ Aye, that I do, sonny,” he replied, “Give us your hand, 
I’m right glad to see you back i’ Green. Why, Kate's head ’ll 
be turned upside down when she sees you. She’s been talk- 
ing about you ever since they took you away. Come along 
wi’ me, my son. Where hast been all this time — eh ? We 
thought we’d hear no more of you in this world. Plenty of 
folks have been here looking after you, but we couldn’t tell 
’em a thing about where they’d find you.” 

The old man was walking rapidly down the road, in which 
stood the cottages, talking as he went, and I kept pace with 
him. 

“ Where is the house ?” I asked. 

“ Don’t be impatient,” said he, “here it is,” and he turned 
sharply into the gateway of a weather-beaten cottage, partly 
overrun with creeping plants and with a small garden patch in 
front. He held the gateway open for me and then led the way 
up the foot-path to the door. “Kate,” said he, “Kate,” al- 


296 


ADEIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


most before he entered, 4 4 Here’s Wash , here’s Washing- 

ton. Come and see your little Wash. I guess you won’t know 
him a bit.” 

A handsome and portly woman of a little mo v e than fifty 
years, dropped the work she was at and ran towards me. I 
knew the face at a glance, although I had a very faint recol- 
lection of it before. In a moment she had folded me in her 
arms and kissed me. 

“Oh, my dear boy, where did you come from?” she asked. 
“ Where have you been, that we heard nothing of you ever 
since you left the Medical College ? Have you seen your mo- 
ther? — she’s been down here.” 

“ Yes,” said I, “ she came on with me to Boston.” 

“Well, Washington, I can’t tell you how very glad I am to 
see you, looking so well, too. It quite does my heart good. 
What a fraud that father of yours was to do as he did ? You 
know everything has been found out, I suppose ?” 

“Yes, I’ve been told all about it,” I replied, “and I’m 
of course pleased that the mystery has been unravelled.” 

“ But for that nurse of yours,” continued Kate, “your fa- 
ther would never have done what he did — never in the world, 
but I guess he’s sorry enough for it now. It was such a mean 
— such an unfatherly thing to do, but, as I told my husband at 
the time, I suspected as much. I knew there was something 
under the surface that oughtn’t to have been. Have you seen 
the nurse?” 

“ No,” said I, “ have you ?” 

“ Yes, she’s living in Boston. She’s Mrs. Chittenden now. 
Her first husband died not long after she married him, and 
she’s living with her second in North Street ; number 22 you’ll 
find her at. She told me all about it, and so did her unmar- 
ried sister, who was the girl as I saw in the carriage on the 
night your father gave you to me. A thousand dollars reward 
was offered by your mother, or her relations — I don’t know 
which — for information about it, and that’s how they came to 
turn informants. Your mother must be real glad to have 
found you. How did it happen ?” 

I told her, and gave her an outline of my career after leav- 
ing the stone building, but made no mention of the suicide of 
Mr. Bangs on the previous day. 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


297 


“ Ah, she was a hard, cruel old creature to you, was that 
Mrs. Bangs. My heart bled for you when I had to leave you 
with her, and as for her impudence to me, I never heard any- 
thing like it before.’*' 

I continued the narrative of my adventures, and she ex- 
claimed : “ What a wonderful life you have led, Washington. 
It makes me think of some of those stories I used to read when 
I was a girl. ” 

“How are your children?” I asked. 

“Ah!” she replied, “ I’ve only two sons and a daughter 
living. One — Richard — has settled out West, somewhere in 
Indiana, as a farmer, and the other — James — is living at 
home. He works in the factory in the village, and if you’d 
come an hour sooner you’d have found him at his dinner. 
He'll be very sorry to miss seeing you. You must stop at the 
factory on your way back, and ask for him. My daughter 
Kitty was married last fall, and is living in Cambridge.” 

I drew three hundred dollars in gold — with which I had pre- 
pared myself — from my pocket, and said: “Before I go I’ll 
give you this. It may be of some use to you, and remember 
that so long as I can help you, you shall never know what it is 
to want a dollar. Now I’ll say good-bye, and God bless 
you.” 

“God bless you, my dear,” responded Kate, with tears in 
her eyes, throwing her arms round my neck again and kissing 
me. “ I’m sorry you’re going, but I thank you for this money 
as you can spare it, because it will be of great use to us, for my 
husband hasn’t been able to do much for a long time — his 
health is so poor. ” 

“ Good-bye, good-bye, and God bless you, if you won’t stay 
to supper,” said the old man Wilkins, rising from the chair on 
which he had been seated during the interview, “ and thank 
you for your handsome present. We haven’t seen so much 
money before.” Then he shook me affectionately by the hand, 
and so did Kate, after which she again kissed me and followed 
me to the garden gate, while the old man walked on with me 
in th,e direction of the mill, where I saw the playmate of my 
childhood and greeted him, and he me, in a spirit of brotherly 
love. 


298 


ADHIFT WIT II A VENGEANCE. 


Then followed another parting and another promise to re- 
turn to the cottage in which I had passed my infancy, and it 
was not until nearly two hours had elapsed from the time of 
my leaving the rockaway that I re-entered it and drove away 
towards the railway station, while old Wilkins waved his stick, 
and his son — a strapping fellow of about twenty-seven — waved 
his hat after the departing vehicle, and in the distance I saw 
my foster-mother coming up the road and fluttering some- 
thing white in the air by way of benediction. 


CHAPTER LIX. 

THE BOSTON NUBSE. 

Before leaving Boston on the following day I called on Mrs. 
Chittenden at the address given me by Kate Wilkins, and 
found that interesting female in the room which she occupied 
with her husband — who, I discovered, was a car conductor — 
engaged in the laudable occupation of ironing the family 
linen. 

“I hope I don’t intrude, Mrs. Chittenden,” I said, as she 
opened the door on the second floor, at which I had been told 
to knock, “but- Kate Wilkins sent me here. Do you know 
her ?” 

“ Yes, sir. Is it about that child?” 

“ I, Mrs. Chittenden, am that child !” was my reply. 

“ Bless me, you don’t say so. Come in. How is it you got 
back here? We all supposed you dead and gone long ago. Are 
you sure you’re the son of your mother?” 

“ I want no flippant remarks from you on that subject,” said 
I stifllv. 

“ Oh, gracious, if you’re going to be offended I won’t talk 
to you at all.” 

“ I simply called,” I said, “ out of curiosity to see the wo- 
man who assisted my father in deceiving my mother with 
respect to my death, and to hear what you have to say.” 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


299 


“Well,” she remarked, “for that matter I’ve nothing to 
say. The gentleman, Mr. Duncan, sent for me to his hotel 
and told me that he wished to obtain a dead child and to get 
a living one put out to nurse somewhere. I got him the dead 
child from the hospital, and he paid me well for my trouble, 
and I sent my sister with his baby in a carriage when he went 
to find a nurse for it. It was the strangest thing I’d ever 
known of, but I was told to ask no questions, and I didn’t. 
From the fortnight after the dead child was buried until I saw 
your mother a few months ago, when I applied about the ad- 
vertisement offering the thousand dollars reward, I d heard 
nothing more about the affair, and never dreamt it would be 
brought up again. I hesitated about giving the information, 
but my husband told me not to lose the chance of making a 
thousand dollars, so I swore before the lawyers to all I knew. 
If I’d known what it was at the time I got the dead child I’d 
never have done it, I can tell you that — not for anything the 
gentleman would have given me. But I guess it's all right 
now, isn’t it ?” 

The affair evidently did not trouble her conscience much, 
for a smile lighted up her large fat face, and she seemed to 
think that “ all’s well that ends well.” It required no keen 
insight into character to see that she was a naturally unscru- 
pulous and evil disposed woman, and without either religion 
or principle to control her impulses. 

“All that you said in your affidavit, I suppose, is true,” I 
remarked. 

“Yes,” she replied rather indignantly. “May God strike 
me dead if it isn’t, but you’ve no business to ask such ques- 
tions, and I won't answer any more of them. Besides, I’ve my 
work to do.” 

“Very well, Mrs. Chittenden, I’ve nothing f?irther to ask 
you. Good day,” and I took my way down-stairs again. 


300 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


CHAPTER LX. 

ANCHORED AT LAST. 

Several times during the brief period I was in Boston I 
wrote lovingly to Gertrude, and almost as frequently I re- 
ceived equally loving words from her, and she was never ab- 
sent from my thoughts. 

I was dtlighted when the hour came for me to return, and 
when I landed with my mother from the Ferry-boat at West- 
Point, Gertrude met me under the shadow of the cliffs at the 
river side and welcomed me back with joy. I was happy, in- 
deed, to see the hue of health returning to her faded cheeks 
and gladly anticipated her complete recovery, to the end that 
we might enjoy life together, for without her I felt that mine 
would be but a sorrowful blank. 

The long wished-for morning which was to seal my fate at 
length came. It broke bright and fair after nearly a week of 
wet and cloudy weather — a good omen, as I thought. Nature 
seemed to brush away her tears, and smile upon the union of 
two loving souls. 

I uttered thanks to God for being spared to see this day, and 
I seemed to stand on the threshold of a new and beautiful 
life. 

How gloriously the sun shone, and how merrily the birds 
twittered among the branches of the trees in the Square, and 
what a happy feeling of exultation filled my soul! I rejoiced, 
and the world seemed to rejoice with me. 

One’s wedding-day ought always to be delightful to look back 
upon. With me it is the most cherished and pleasant memory 
of my life. 

Gertrude never looked more lovely, I thought, than on this 
joyous morning ; and when she appeared, robed in white silk, 
and crowned with a wreath of orange-blossom, I saw how 
well her bridal dress became her. She was calm but animated, 
and gladness beamed in her countenance. We had known 
each other too long and too well to be much excited or flurried 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


301 


at the near prospect of our marriage ceremony. We accepted 
the event as the natural result of antecedent circumstances, 
and were not disposed to be specially demonstrative on the oc- 
casion. 

Young people who marry after short courtships sometimes 
hardly know whether they are standing on their head or their 
heels on their wedding day. But Gertrude and I were philo- 
sophers in our way. 

My mother had become perfectly reconciled to the match, 
since I had fully explained the state of affairs to her, and she 
had presented the bride with some valuable gifts, of which 
there was a large collection arranged in one corner of the parlor. 

Never having been married before, as the reader is aware, I 
took the precaution of reading the marriage service twice dur- 
ing the morning, and fixed the irrevocable “ I will” distinctly 
in my mind. Having thus “ crammed” myself, I felt master 
of the situation and equal to any emergency. 

Reginald Wade was to be my groomsman, and he came to 
the house in Union Square at half-past twelve, to accompany 
me to Grace Church, and expressed his surprise to find me in 
full evening dress. 

“Is that the way you get yourselves up for a wedding here ?” 
he asked, surveying me from head to foot. 

“ Yes,” said I, “ this is strictly a la mode .” 

“ In that case,” he continued, “ I shall astonish the natives 
with my blue frock-coat, white waistcoat, light trowsers, fancy 
neck-tie, and lavender kids ; but I have the consolation of 
knowing that this is the correct thing in England, whatever it 
may be here. If a man went to a wedding there, looking like 
a stick of black sealing-wax, people would think he’d called on 
his way home from a funeral.” 

“You’ll do,” said I, “and you certainly look more appro- 
priately dressed for a wedding than I do ; but the custom of 
the country makes the law, and we are slaves -of fashion.” 

“ You’ll go in the same carriage with my mother, I sup- 
pose,” said I. 

“ Then how are you going ?” he asked, in surprise. 

“I’m going with the bride’s mother, and the bride will go 
with her father.” 


302 


ADHIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


“That’s how you do it — eh? With us the groom and 

groomsman go together, and meet the bride at the church.” 

“Never mind,” said I, “what matter, so long as you’re 
happy ?” 

I thought Gertrude had never looked more lovely than she 
did on this her wedding morning, for the excitement of the 
event gave a glow to her features, which was decidedly becom- 
ing, and she had certainly much improved in appearance and 
gained in flesh, since my return from Australia. 

Her dress, too, was well suited to her form and complexion, 
so that every one who saw her said that she made a very beau- 
tiful bride — a remark which is, however, so very generally ’in- 
dulged in on similar occasions, regardless of its truth, that I 
am not by any means disposed to quote it as conclusive autho- 
rity on the subject. 

Speaking with more regard to details than I have yet done, 
she was attired in white corded silk caught up with bunches 
of orange blossom, and elaborately trimmed with Honiton 
lace. The wreath which crowned her really noble brow was of 
©range blossom and stephanotis over which a tulle veil was 
thrown, the latter covered with floss silk stars, with a border 
of the same. She also wore a gold locket set with pearls, the 
gift of my mother. 

My own present to the bride was a diamond bracelet and 
ear-rings, which she wore proudly. 

In the vestibule of the church she was received by her six 
bridesmaids, who were all dressed in white grenadine trimmed 
with blue satin ribbon, with sashes also of grenadine trimmed in 
the same way. Their bonnets were of tulle and blue convolvulus, 
from which long tulle veils hung down. Each wore round her 
neck a gold locket, nominally my own gift, but which had been 
considerately provided for me by Mr. Morgan, and tastefully 
enamelled thereon, in blue and white, was the monogram W. 
and G. To me it was a beautiful and eloquent legend — Wash- 
ington and Gertrude ! — which derived fresh interest from the 
event it commemorated. 

As we walked slowly up the aisle of Grace Church — Gertrude 
leaning on her father’s arm — while the organ pealed out its swell- 
ing tones, filling the air with exquisite harmony, I felt a delicious 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


303 


glow of pride and satisfaction which language of mine cannot 
describe. Those who occupied the pews on either side, and 
they were many, seemed to look with admiring eyes upon us, 
and wish us joy through the time to come. I imagined they 
thought with me that I was a lucky fellow, and ought to be 
very grateful. 

The light streaming through the vari-colored glass of the 
great window, fell in softened splendor upon the waves of 
faces. A divine radiance seemed to fill the tabernacle, and it 
was with a very light and elastic step that I approached the 
altar, at which so many bow the knee in mockery, but where I 
knelt in sincerity, without a single conflict of emotion. 

Ah! the beautiful hours that have passed forever, who 
would not yield their all to recall them? 

I felt getting married decidedly pleasant — indeed, heavenly, 
to use the intense language of the sensational school. 

And when the service commenced, and the officiating clergy- 
man in his white robe read, in his usual impressive style, the 
service he had read so often before, a dreamy sense of gladness 
and repose stole over me, and I felt that the ultima thule of 
my aspirations was reached. 

Solemnly I uttered the momentous response, and U I will” 
sounded faintly through the “ dim religious light,” as I stood 
at the altar. And still fainter was the utterance from other 
lips, but none the less sincere. 

It was with a sense of relief that I rose after the Benedic- 
tion, and retraced my steps with my wife down the long aisle 
which led from the altar to Broadway, although we were 
unmercifully stared at all the way. 

The spectators were evidently studying me more now than 
before the interesting performance which had just taken place. 
But pride and joy overcame embarrassment, and I felt as brave 
as a lion, yet as tender as a dove. To my eyes the world in 
which I had my being was now as beautiful as Gertrude’s 
bouquet of white camelias — itself a fitting emblem of her own > 
purity. 

I was now married — actually married. The long-wished-for 
event had at last occurred, and behold I was transported to the 
Arcadian shores of matrimony. 


304 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


“We drove home, my wife and I, in rhapsody, and I was at 
length able to say, “ My darling, you are mine at last. Thanks 
to Divine Providence.” Then came the reception, which was a 
grand affair for a thing of the kind. 

I preserved a muscular gravity during the whole of this ordeal, 
but laughed in my sleeve at intervals — a habit I have con- 
tracted during the latter years of my life. I considered the 
proceedings, on the whole, rather automatic than otherwise, 
and was not sorry when I received the last visitor’s congratu- 
lations. 

I remember very little of it now, more than that there was a 
constant stream of people for two hours, and that they all 
looked pretty hard at me as they bowed, and that some shook 
hands, and others seemed afraid to venture upon the experi- 
ment, and that a few congratulated us gracefully, but most of 
those who attempted it did it awkwardly, or seemed at a loss 
what to say. My father in-law and Mrs. Morgan, however, 
did their best to make every one feel at home, and the former 
was never more jovial or florid. 

There was a dejeuner supplied by Delmonico, regal dless of 
expense, and several hundred visitors were there to partake of it. 

Dancing followed the reception, and my bride and I pre- 
pared for a trip to Philadelphia, preparatory to sailing for 
England with my mother ten days afterwards. While the 
carriage was in waiting for us, and the dancers were going for- 
ward and back, and changing partners in the parlor, a touching 
interview was taking place up-stairs. 

My mother flung herself upon me in tears, and kissed me 
with passionate emotion, and poured blessings upon my head. 
I felt at last what it was to have a mother’s love. 

Then Gertrude in her travelling dress entered the room with 
her mother, and we clasped hands. Both seemed on the verge 
of weeping with joy ; and when the final moment of parting 
came, the closing scene between mother and daughter made 
me turn aside with tears in my eyes. 

I tore myself away in the midst of tender adieux, and as the 
carriage drove off, a farewell flutter of white handkerchiefs 
told of a hearty God-speed more eloquent than words. 

“Well, Gertrude, my darling, you are mine ! ” I spoke. “I wish 


ADKIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


305 


I could say all I feel of joy, and gladness, and gratitude, I 
would then tell you how very, very happy you have made me. 
But you know it all without my telling you — don’t you, my 
love ?” and I saw the love-light in her eyes, to which my own 
flashed in reply. Two kindred souls were blended in felicity. 
The desired end of mutual affection was achieved, and the 
woman I adored and was adored by was mine forever. 


CHAPTER LXX. 

BACK TO THE OLD WOULD. 

The days passed in unruffled serenity at Philadelphia, and 
when we returned to New York we received fresh congratula- 
tions. We spent only one night at the house of my father-in- 
law, and the next morning my mother joined us, and we drove 
to Jersey City to embark on the “Arabia” for Liverpool. 

We exchanged final farewells with my wife’s father and 
mother, who had come down to see us off, on the Cunard 
wharf, a few moments after which the steamer moved away, 
and the broad waters of the bay, sparkling in the splendors of 
the new-born day, opened upon our view. 

I thought of the last time I had left New York for Liverpool, 
and compared my wretchedness then with my happiness now. 
What a glorious change had come over my fortunes since that 
sorrowful day ! The agony, the gloom, the desolation had 
passed away, and lo ! I had met with my reward. I had found 
my mother, gained a wife, and cleared my reputation from the 
taint of calumny. 

Notwithstanding my change of condition, I greatly missed 
Reginald Wade, my constant companion for so many long 
months, but I hoped to meet him soon again in England — his 
inclination, meanwhile, leading him to linger in America. 

From the time we receded from the church-spires of New- 
York till the tall steeples of Liverpool hove in sight, we had 
pleasant weather, and the days sped gayly. 
u 


306 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


During the voyage my mother had frequent conversations 
with me respecting my father, but she entertained no bitter 
feelings against him, merely regretting that he should have 
been so wanting in paternal affection as to consign me from 
my cradle to the life I had led. She begged me to forgive him, 
as she had forgiven him. 

At the Adelphi Hotel in Liverpool a letter awaited her, an- 
nouncing the death of Lord Huntingdon, which left my father 
heir presumptive to the title. 

Women attach great importance to conventional honors, 
and I candidly believe she was rather glad than otherwise to 
hear that the old nobleman had shuffled otf this mortal coil, 
and felt more inclined than ever to shake hands again with her 
husband. 

We were both averse to adopting any legal proceedings cal- 
culated to annoy him. 

We therefore merely caused a bill in equity to perpetuate 
testimony to be filed, and the allegations contained in 
the bill, embodying the facts of the case, would force my father 
to an admission or denial of the truth. If he denied my alle- 
gations, then the Court of Chancery could frame issues, and 
send the case into the Court of Queen's Bench to be tried by 
jury ; if he failed to answer in accordance with the subpoena 
served upon him by the Court, then a writ of rebellion would 
be issued against him, and finally he would be outlawed. 

The subpoena was served, my mother wrote him a letter, 
and we both awaited the result. A reply came by post. It 
ran thus: 

“Paris, December 14, 1853. 

“ My Dear Wife : The long silence between us has been at 
length broken, and it is a relief to me. 

“ Confession is good for the soul, and I will be candid with 
you and admit the truth of all that has been alleged about our 
boy : I would say dear boy, but for the manner in which I 
have acted towards him, and it might sound like a mockery. 

“I would have made this frank admission long ago, if I had 
felt assured that our child still lived ; but as it was, I did not 
wish to pain you by telling the strange facts when no good was 
likely to arise from such a statement. All that I ask now is 


ADRIFT WITII A VENGEANCE. 


307 


your forgiveness ; your love, I fear, I have forfeited forever, 
and all my repentance will be in vain.” 

“I, of course, am unable to speak as to the identity of the 
young gentleman you so confidently believe to be our child, 
but I shall make answer to the subpoena which has been serv- 
ed upon me by the Court of Chancery, in accordance with the 
terms of this letter ; so that if you remain convinced of the 
fact, there will be no bar to his succeeding to the estate 
and title should he survive me. I wish you long life and much 
happiness, and again ask forgiveness for the wrong I did 
you. “Affectionately, Henry.” 

“ P. S. I suppose you have heard of the death of my grand- 
father, Lord Huntingdon, at the Park. From what you say, 
and the affidavits filed, I feel certain he is our son, and I ac- 
knowledge him as such.” 

My mother was deeply touched by this open avowal, and 
she cried over it. 


CHAPTER LXII. 

I meet my father for the second time. 

We resided temporarily in London, at the house of 
my great uncle, Mr. Edward Beresford, who very cordially 
made us all feel very much at home — my mother and Gertrude 
and I — and I was pleased to see that Gertrude enjoyed her sur- 
roundings, and evidently felt perfectly at ease and happy. It 
gladdened my heart, too, to witness the rapid improvement 
her health was undergoing. The voyage had braced her and 
done her a world of good, her freedom from sea-sickness hav- 
ing doubtless had much to do with this. 

“ Oh, Washington,” she once said, “ I am so delighted with 
England and the English people — more than I ever thought I 
should be, but, perhaps, it’s because I am with you, and any- 
where with you, my love, would be a paradise to me. ” 


808 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


I determined, after mature consideration, to seek an inter- 
view with my father, as the best means of narrowing the gap 
between us, and reconciling, if that were possible, my mother 
to him. 

He was an idle man, and lived most of his time in London, 
where he had lodgings in Jermyn Street, but I ascertained 
that he was very seldom at his club — the Athenaeum, where I 
had met him — the scandal attending his separation from his 
wife having probably made him reluctant to meet many of his 
club acquaintances. % 

In order to arrange a casual meeting, one morning at 
nine o’clock I took a seat in a tailor’s shop nearly opposite 
the house in Jermyn Street where he lived, having previously 
ascertained — by sending a messenger to inquire — that he was 
at home. 

I saw two gentlemen come out of the house during the first 
hour that I sat there, but neither, I felt sure, was the one with 
whom I had dined at the Athenaeum in company with Reginald 
Wade. Still 1 waited, and finally I was rewarded by seeing 
one whom I recognized at a glance as the Mr. Duncan to 
whom I had been then introduced, although I had not seen 
him from that day to this. 

He carried a neatly-folded silk umbrella in his hand, which 
he used as a stick, wore lavender kid gloves, and walked 
leisurely in the direction of St. James’ Street. 

I followed him quickly on the opposite side of the street, 
and as soon as I came abreast of him crossed over and politely 
accosted him. 

“Good morning, sir,” I said — “Mr. Henry Duncan, I 
believe ?” 

“ Yes — that is my name,” he replied stiffly, without extend- 
ing his hand, and evidently very much surprised, not to say 
startled. 

“ I had the pleasure of an introduction to you last year at 
the Athenaeum Club, by Mr. Reginald Wade,” I remarked. 
“ We dined together, if you remember?” 

“ Oh, yes, I do perfectly. How do you do? I hardly knew 
you, you’re so bronzed.” 

“ Do you know who I am now ?” 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


309 


“ Oblige me with your name, or allow me to exchange cards 
with you, if you please ? I’m not quite sure. ” 

The suspicion who I was evidently flashed across his mind, 
and he acted like a man confused, and who wanted to be sure 
before he spoke. 

I gave him my card — “Washington Edmonds Duncan.” 

“Who are you? — pray tell me?” he asked somewhat ex- 
citedly. “ Have you just come from the United States ?” 

“ Yes,” I replied, “I came with my mother — your wife, I 
believe — if you are the Mr. Duncan I suppose you to be.” 

He seemed dumbfounded, and the blood fled from his face 
and left him pallid. 

“ This is a great surprise,” he said, in a voice somewhat 
choked with emotion, and a manner betraying great embar- 
rassment. “But how do you know that my wife is your 
mother, as you say ?” 

“ Did you not write a letter to her about three weeks ago, 
admitting the allegations in the bill we tiled ?” 

“ Ah, yes ; that is not what I mean. How do you know, I 
say, that you are her son ?” 

“ Well, it is a difficult matter to prove anything, logically, 
but the testimony as to that is conclusive. My mother, who 
has investigated the case thoroughly, has no doubt on the sub- 
ject, neither has the woman with whom you left me in the vil- 
lage of Green, near Boston, nor have the lawyers who 
conducted the investigation and examined the witnesses, nor 
any of those with whom I lived from the day I left the cottage of 
Kate Wilkins at Green. Edmonds, too — wasn’t that the name 
you gave her ? Then, is there no family resemblance ? I’m 
told there is. All that I lack to make my identity still more 
indisputable, is a strawberry mark on my arm, but if I may 
believe novels so many persons ’are distinguishable in that 
way that even it might not be considered proof positive.” 

Mr. Duncan smiled grimly. 

“ I won’t deny, and I won’t admit anything, but I’m willing 
to do justice. How do I know even that you are the young 
man my wife believes to be her son ? I was introduced 
to you once, but now, my dear sir, you present your- 
self in quite a different character. You were then Mr. Ed- 


310 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


monds — you are now Mr. Duncan. If I only felt sure who 
you are I would be better satisfied and speak more freely.” 

Just then a barouche containing Mr. Beresford, my mother 
and Gertrude, drove past, and arrested my attention. I sig- 
nalled them to stop, which was unnecessary, as my mother, I 
saw, had already prepared to do so. 

Mr. Duncan averted his glance from the carriage the mo. 
ment he saw it, but my mother stepped out, assisted by Mr. 
Beresford, and came up to us boldly. 

“ Henry Duncan,” she said sternly, “ this is your son and 
mine. This meeting, I can assure you, is purely accidental, 
but I’m glad it has occurred, for it enables me to introduce 
father and son. Do you acknowledge him ? I ask this for 
my child’s sake, not my own,” and her eyes flashed. 

“ If you are satisfied that he is your son, I am. I have no 
doubt from the affidavits that accompanied the bill you filed 
that the Washington Edmonds therein referred to, is the off- 
spring of our marriage, and if this,” turning tome, “is the 
same Washington Edmonds, the identity is established, but 
when he first spoke to me I didn’t know who he was. There 
was no one to introduce him and explain. ” 

“ May I call you father ?” said I to him. 

“You may,” he replied, nervously. 

“Then let me introduce my wife to you,” and I stepped 
back a few yards to where stood the carriage in which Ger- 
trude and Mr. Beresford were seated, and assisted Gertrude to 
alight. “I want to introduce you to my father,” said I, and 
a moment afterwards I led her in astonishment into his pre- 
sence. 

“ My wife, Gertrude — my father — Mr. Henry Duncan,” was 
the simple formula I used upon the occasion. 

My father took her hand and said with embarrassment — “ I’m 
glad to meet you, and wish you much happiness.” 

“I can stand this no longer, I must ask you to excuse me,” 
he said, turning to me and my mother. “ I bitterly regret 
what I did, and can never atone for it. To you, Harriet, I can 
never be what I was. I have given up all hope of that. To 
my son, I can never look for affection or respect. I don’t de- 
serve it. I loathe the very thought of the transaction, and 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


311 


would give the world to undo it, but the injury is irreparable. 

I despise myself for it as much as you can despise me. What 
can I expect but scorn and contempt and bitter curses ? What 
else do I deserve ? Great God, I feel it curdling my heart’s 
blood, and piercing me like ten thousand daggers. But God 
forgive me.” 

Just then his voice faltered and, overcome with emotion, he 
fell backward to the ground in a deep swoon — and so suddenly 
that I had no time to break his fall. 

Both my mother and Gertrude screamed, and I was afraid 
the latter would faint, but she did not, and after loosening my 
father’s cravat, I- led her back to the carriage, while my mother 
stood by her unconscious husband’s side, deeply affected. A 
crowd gathered in a moment, and it was with great difficulty 
that I kept a breathing space clear. 

“More air,” I cried “Keep back — back.” Very soon a 
policeman arrived, and with his assistance I carried him into a 
shop, near which we had been standing during the entire in- 
terview. 

He was still unconscious and breathing heavily. Mr. Beres- 
ford had gone in pursuit of the nearest doctor, and in about a 
quarter of an hour a medical man arrived. 

“Oh! what can you do for him, doctor?” said my mother, 
in tears. 

The doctor eyed his patient calmly, felt his pulse, and said, 
“ It’s a bad case, I’m afraid.” 

“ Why, doctor ?” asked my mother. 

“ Because, ma’m,” he replied, “ he's in an apoplectic fit.” 

“Oh! dreadful — dreadful,” exclaimed my mother, who 
seemed to feel as much grief as if she had not been separated 
from him. 

As soon as a stretcher could be procured from the nearest 
police station, he was carried to his lodgings, and there the 
doctor directed the efforts which were made to restore con- 
sciousness, but, sad to say, all without avail, for my father 
never rallied. His breathing gradually became more labored, 
until he expired, little more than three hours from the time 
he was attacked. 

I was present in his bedroom when he drew his last breath. 


312 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


and so was my mother, and she wrung her hands when she saw 
that he was no more. 

It was a melancholy task that I performed as chief mourner 
at his funeral, which took place from Huntingdon House : the 
solemn c rtege winding its way among the Park trees — with the 
raven plumes nodding in the bright sunlight — towards the 
Parish Church of Huntingdon, where, in the family vault, we 
laid him beside his grandfather, the late Earl. 

As I committed his body to the earth, I forgave him the 
great wrong he had done me. 


CHAPTER LXIII. 

ON THE FIFTH AVENUE. 

In the following May, my mother, Gertrude and I left 
England for New York, at the invitation of Mr. and Mrs. 
Morgan to make them a visit. 

“My darling child; how well you’re looking. I could 
hardly have believed in such a change, if I had not seen it 
with my own eyes,” exclaimed Gertrude’s mother, as she em- 
braced her on our arrival, and she hardly exaggerated the im- 
provement which had taken place in her health. 

“Now, about that partnership,” said Mr. Morgan, a few 
days after I had reached the house in Union Square. 

“ Mr. Fipps is ready to retire at any time, and if you like to 
come into the firm I’ll let him go and give you a half interest. 
Then the business will be all in the family — eh ? Think over 
it and let me know.” 

At Gertrude’s solicitation, I accepted the liberal proposition 
for a term of three years, and with my mother — she and Ger- 
trude being always excellent friends — we took up our resi- 
dence in the Fifth Avenue — the finest street for residences in 
the world — in a brown stone house, given to Gertrude by her 
father for the purpose, and there we enjoyed as happy a 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


313 


domestic life as ever fell to the lot of God’s creatures here 
below. We lived handsomely, and, therefore, expensively — 
as all who know the cost of living in New York can testify — 
horses, carriages, and a coachman and groom being included 
in our establishment. We entertained little, however, outside 
of our own family circle, although Gertrude kept up a large 
- visiting acquaintance, and was fond of giving one or two 
dancing parties each winter just before Lent — for she was a 
strict Episcopalian, and Lent with us was a Lenten season 
indeed, but, as by her influence — both before and since our 
marriage — and my mother’s, I had become and been baptised 
— mark that ! — a member of the same church, there was har- 
mony on this point. 

My mother prided herself upon being a strictly Low Church 
woman, but Gertrude, without being extreme, rather favored 
the High Church party, while I, not being partial to extremes 
in any direction, represented the Middle Church. 

The most interesting event of the first year of our married 
life in New York was the appearance of a new character on the 
scene. It is unnecessary to do more than mention that it was 
a daughter, and that she was baptised in the name of her 
mother. My mother and Gertrude’s mother seemed to be as 
proud of this new acquisition as Gertrude herself, and I felt 
that the greatest danger it stood in was of being killed with 
kindness. 

The business of the house went on prospering so well, that, 
when the time agreed upon expired, I found that I had more 
than two hundred thousand dollars to my credit, apart from all 
the expenses of living in the meantime. Nevertheless, I then 
withdrew from the house of Henry Morgan and Co. for the 
purpose of immediately returning to England — whither my 
mother had gone, accompanied by her maid, six months pre- 
viously — but the occurrence of a similar event to that which 
ushered Gertrude the younger into the world, delayed my 
departure. 

This time I had a son, and I decided that he should be 
named Henry Morgan, in compliment to his grandfather, and 
he was christened accordingly, in Grace Church, much to the 
delight of the old gentleman. 


314 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


This second baptism, apparently, rejuvenated him just as his 
daughter’s marriage had done, and he seemed to be living his 
life over again in his child and his grand-children. 

Gertrude and her parents had always gone to Grace Church, 
partly because it was nearer their home than any other Epis- 
copal place of worship ; and when in Mr. Morgan’s employ I 
had regularly occupied a seat in the family pew. &nd now 
my mother, Gertrude and I went there together, and sat 
in the same old family pew, if there was room for us, or in one 
adjoining, where my mother had rented two seats. 

“It is one peculiarity of the people at Grace,” remarked 
Mr. Morgan, on one occasion, with less than his usual re- 
verence, “that they like to worship the Lord, admire the 
latest fashions, and listen to operatic music, vocal and instru- 
mental, at the same time. They are also fond of dressing 
within an inch of their lives, and they want everyone to see 
their fine clothes as they walk to and from church. Most of 
them, I fear, attend Grace Church, because it’s fashionable, 
and they wish to see and disport themselves there. The aim 
of some would seem to be not to save their souls — not to hum- 
ble themselves before God, and prepare for another world, but 
to be seen of men — especially the girls, I’m sorry to say, and 
a few of the women, who ought to know better. That, 
"Washington, isn’t religion — it’s a mere pretence, and I regret 
to see such a frivolous spirit displayed there. Bless 
you, they put me down as an old-fogy when I tell 
them what I think of all the flirting and vanity 
and vain-glory we see in our so-called fashionable 
churches. Give me honest simplicity and earnest piety. Fa- 
shion — pshaw ! They even talk of fashionable funerals, now- 
a-days ! What a mockery of the dead ! The wicked ones 
will find, however, that a fashionable funeral wont carry them 
to heaven, no more than a fashionable wedding will help to 
furnish a house. I go to Grace Church because, I may say, 
I’ve always gone there, but it has changed vastly since I first 
attended divine service within its walls. Now it often seems to 
me more like the opera than a place of worship, but I satisfy 
my own conscience that I am not one of those who sustain its 
fashionable reputation. There are a good many sincerely de- 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


315 


vout people — many of our oldest and best citizens, who go there 
like myself for grace, and grace alone, and people should go to 
church only in order that they may grow in grace, and serve 
the Lord with all their hearts.” 

“ You are severe, are you not, in your criticism?” said I, 
“ but I have no doubt there is more truth than poetry in what 
you say, although some of the Grace people, thinking the cap 
fitted themselves, would, doubtless, be very indignant if we 
told them so.” 

“Yes, the empty headed aspirants for social distinction, 
those eaten up with their own vanity and love of show, and 
those who have no religion in their hearts would, but sensible 
people would recognize the justice of my remarks. What we 
want in Grace Church is a little more sackcloth and ashes, and 
less finery.” 

But for all this, Mr. Morgan would have been the last to de- 
sert Grace Church, and his eye and ear were, I think, rather 
pleased than otherwise by what his conscience disapproved. 


CHAPTEK LXIY. 

MY GRANDFATHER DIES. 

I returned to England with Gertrude and the olive branches 
— which were a never failing source of delight to her — and, 
having rented a London mansion at 10 Eaton Square, I 
quietly settled down to a life of leisure, although not of idle- 
ness. 

My mother had a delightful country seat, which had been 
the home of her paternal ancestors for generations back — Ber- 
esford Manor — in a picturesque part of Kent, and although she 
liked London during the season, and made her home with me 
while it lasted, she rejoiced to get back to her country residence 
in August, and Gertrude and I were glad to go with her. 
There we stayed until December, and then returned to town 
together to spend Christmas. But before the end of January 


316 


ADHIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


we were at the Manor again, and only came back to town at 
the end of April — just in time for the opening of the London 
season, with all its fashion and pomp, vain-glory and frivo- 

i lity. 

* Three years passed in this-way, and meanwhile, only the life 
of a feeble old man stood between me and the peerage of Hunt- 
ingdon. The present Earl had been translated from his Colo- 
nial See to one at home soon after his accession to the title, 
and several times — twice with Gertrude — I had visited him at 
his Palace by invitation. I was his only grandchild, and he 
always welcomed me affectionately, and spoke to me of the ne- 
cessity of holiness and the beauty of a Christian life. The 
Bishop was a pious man, but fond of good living, and he never 
allowed himself less than a bottle of port at dinner, in addition 
to either stout or ale. “But,” said he, “ although I take it, 
you need not. Habit is second nature, and enough is as good 
as a feast.” 

The bishop had a well fed look and large features, reddened 
by wine, but he was, he informed me, a martyr to rheumatism, 
so much so, indeed, that he always showed great lameness in 
his walk and required the support of a stick. 

Twice only, and that on the occasion of my first two inter- 
views with him had he alluded to my father’s conduct, in de- 
ceiving my mother concerning myself, and then he expressed 
hearty condemnation of his conduct. “ Strange, is it not,” he 
once remarked, “ that those who have been the best instruct- 
ed should often be the first to do the devil’s work. I’m sorry 
to say that the sons of bishops have in so many cases distin- 
guished themselves by furnishing bad examples, that their 
wickedness is becoming almost proverbial. It shows the per- 
versity of human nature and the need we have of the Holy 
Spirit to cleanse and purify our hearts and make us shun evil, 
and live only for good, hoping for the reward of the Just here- 
after. Young man, serve the Lord while you are young, and 
you will have a clear conscience — its own best reward — and a 
firm faith in a glorious immortality when you are old. A man 
without religion is as a ship without a rudder. Never, Wash- 
ington, be without that. It is the best chart and compass that 
you can find. Remember, whoso honors Him, He will honor. 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


31? 


When you succeed to my title and estates, which will be before 
long — for the time is near at hand when my Heavenly Master 
will summon me to give an account in the spirit for the 
deeds done in the flesh — do not allow yourself to be elated or 
filled with the pride which often attends success, but be meek 
and lowly, and remember that earthly glory is transitory. 
Take your Redeemer for your example. He rode into Jerusa- 
lem on the back of that despised creature, the ass. What a 
beautiful spectacle of humility He presented. We have but a 
little time to stay here on earth, and we can carry nothing 
away with us. Man’s highest duty is to prepare for eternity, 
and there is no knowing how soon the great Reaper Death 
may come to any of us.” 

I thanked him for his good advice, and promised to walk in 
the paths of righteousness. 

One bleak morning in December, 1859, I received a note 
from the Lord Bishop’s Secretary, saying that my grandfather 
was suddenly prostrated by a severe rheumatic attack in the 
region of the heart, and his medical attendants feared that 
owing to his age — he was in his seventy-third year — it would 
terminate fatally. 

I left by the next train for Worcester, and found him in his 
Palace, very low. He, however, recognized me as I entered 
his bedroom and motioned me with his face to draw near his 
bedside. 

He had not sufficient strength to extend his hand, but he 
said in a faint whisper, “ God bless you, I’m going home.” 

Then his eyes closed, and his spirit escaped without a strug- 
gle. So tranquilly did he die that it was only by examining 
his pulse and putting a mirror before his mouth that his phy- 
sician ascertained that he had gone to that bourne whence no 
traveller returns, where the wicked cease from troubling, and 
the weary are at rest. 

He was buried beside his son Henry, in the family vault in^ 
the old parish church of Huntingdon, and here again I was 
chief mourner, for he left no sorrowing child to shed a tear 
over his grave. 


318 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


CHAPTER LXV. 

LAST WORDS. 

Years more have elapsed, and I am no longer known as Mr. 
Washington Edmonds Duncan, but as the Earl of Huntingdon, 
of Huntingdon Park, Gloucester, although I still retain my 
town residence in Eaton Square. Upon succeeding to the 
title, immediately after the death of my grandfather, his soli- 
citor informed me that a few weeks previously he had made a 
will leaving me the bulk of his personal property, valued at 
about forty thousand pounds, which I soon afterwards duly re- 
ceived at the hands of the executors — both clergymen of the 
church of England, and old friends of the deceased, to whom 
he had left two hundred pounds each as compensation for their 
services in that capacity. 

Gertrude wears her honors as Countess of Huntingdon with 
becoming grace and modesty, and she finds sweeter companion- 
ship in her children, — we have now four, — two sons and two 
daughters, — than any she can find in the gay world, while her 
health I rejoice to say is firmly re-established. In 'Gertrude 
the younger I find much to remind me of Gertrude the mother, 
and we six are a happy family of lovers. Never was man 
more blessed than I. 

Mr. and Mrs. Morgan are still living in New York, and cor- 
respond with us regularly, and both are talking of coming 
over to see us next summer. 

And what of Reginald Wade ? 

He is back in England and married to his first love, against 
whom his father warned him with the threat of cutting him off 
with a shilling if he dared to commit the indiscretion of giving 
his hand to the penniless daughter of a country curate. 

We visit each other often in London, and his wife and mine 
are the best of friends. I never enjoyed attending any wed- 
ding, except my own, as much as I did his, and although the 
event was a long time postponed, it resulted very happily. 
Better late than never, and Reginald, I know, has reason to 
congratulate himself on his good fortune. 


ADRIFT WITH A VENGEANCE. 


319 


I have not lost sight of Kate Wilkins, but every year have 
sent her a draft for a thousand dollars. She became a widow 
soon after I visited her in her native village, and hence my as. 
sistance was doubly acceptable. She now, in addition td hav- 
ing a good round sum in a savings bank, owns not only the 
cottage she lives in, and the lot of ground in its vicinity, but 
several other lots and houses adjacent, and I have the satisfac- 
tion of having in her case made at least one fellow creature 
comfortable for life and, as she expresses it, truly happy. 

My great uncle, Mr. Edward Beresford, who took such a 
kindly interest in my mother’s behalf, in her search for me, is 
dead, and my mother has inherited the whole of his large pro- 
perty, real and personal, with certain unimportant exceptions, 
in accordance with the terms of his last will and testament, 
with a reversionary interest, however, in my favor so far as 
the real property is concerned. This leaves her one of the 
richest women in England in her own right, her estate being 
now worth at least three hundred thousand pounds. 

I have said nothing hitherto about my maiden speech in the 
House of Lords on the treatment of the Catfres in the Cape 
Colony, but it was so far successful in attracting attention that 
on the following day two of the London daily journals made it 
the subject of leading articles, and a third incidentally men- 
tioned it as full of wise and practical suggestions. 


THE END. 


































































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